I’m in the middle of sharing Micah’s pregnancy and birth story. You can catch up on this story and others by clicking here.
So this is how it’s going to be the third time.
Sneaky and tricky and when I least expected it. After I committed to writing a book. After I realized it was possible to become a thirty-something widow. After I thought maybe, just maybe, two was enough.
Every misgiving, every irrational fear, every unanswered question evaporated in an instant.
I was going to be a mom again.
And it made me so very happy.
Logistically Mike and I realized things would be different this time around. At 6 and 4 our kids were old enough, and around enough to notice even insignificant changes to our life. Mommy sleeping all the time and potentially (but hopefully not) puking would stand out as something very different.
Standing in the five square feet of our bathroom we debated the issue and decided to tell them anyway. We spent the rest of the day calling and telling and squealing and loving every minute. As far as I could tell this baby’s due date would be well past Mike’s parents anniversary, but hit his aunt and uncles.
So much excitement. So much life. So much joy.
This is what it feels like to be three times a mom.
I went to bed that night smiling, filled with the promise that this would be a very exciting new year indeed.
To be continued with another installment of . . .