I've been avoiding posting for a while now. I've written and rewritten this entry in my head so many times, but actually sitting down and typing it seems a lot harder for some reason. Maybe because there is no way to put these emotions into words. Or maybe the words just don't exist.
Two months ago, I saw a second pink line. A month ago, I saw a perfect beating heart. And yesterday, I saw a beautiful baby kicking its legs.
After 18 months of trying, testing, and failing over and over, we managed to catch that perfect little egg that we saw on ultrasound at the fertility appointment. It's amazing actually--the miracle of it all.
I wish I could say that I'm blissfully enjoying every minute of this pregnancy but the truth is, I'm a basketcase. There isn't a minute that goes by that I don't worry. I wake up in the middle of the night in a panic, just sure that something has gone wrong. I've avoided getting too attached to the little one inside of me because it hurts too much to think that things can go wrong.
I spend a lot of time living inside my own head. I've pushed away friends, family, my husband. Anyone who tells me not to worry. Because that's just not possible. It sucks, and it's beyond unfair that my first experience with pregnancy has left me so educated about the things that can go wrong. I wish I was naive again and could un-know all the things I know. But it doesn't work like that.
Today, I am 12 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I'm waiting for some huge wave of relief to come over me so that I can just believe that I will get to hold this baby in December. I think maybe I'm getting closer.
There are just some things that can never be taken for granted.
