I have had a hard time writing posts over the past couple of months, because I've been so consumed with our (admittedly poorly kept) secret-- Baby 2 is due in December! I've known since about 3.5 weeks with a 6 week and a 9 week ultrasound to confirm, so waiting until now--almost 13 weeks--to share has been a challenge!
In late January, after taking some positive and some negative pregnancy tests, I had an early miscarriage (I guess I was about 6 weeks, but I don't think it was ever a real pregnancy). Even though it was planned, and even though we wanted a 2nd baby, my initial reaction when I found out that I was pregnant then was of ambivalence.
What would it mean for Julia?
I wondered, since, at 2.5, we were in what felt like an endless black hole. I was sad about the changes for her, for us.
And then I miscarried, and suddenly, all I wanted was to be pregnant. And when, a couple of months later, I was, I felt nothing but relief. Somehow, this time it just seemed right. Julia has emerged from the hardness of 2.5, and I know she will be a great big sister. I'm excited for all of us-- excited for Julia and whoever is coming that they'll get to have and be siblings; excited for Scott and me that we get to do it again; excited to be a family of four.
I have had fleeting moments of sadness at the end of my time alone with Julia-- when I get her out of the bath and she snuggles in, wrapped in her hooded towel, and I think,
wait, but Julia is my baby...
When she melts down and I can devote my undivided attention to her... When our routine is, for the most part, easy, and based around her needs. But this morning, as I watched a plum-sized baby cover its face when I coughed on the ultrasound, kick its little feet, and roll over, I felt only excitement and love.