Summer Sprouting

No, Hell didn’t freeze over, nor can pigs fly… but this summer, Chuck and I learned that we are expecting a baby boy in February!

Although this was a planned pregnancy, I think we managed to surprise just about everyone. My uncertainty over the years about having children is not exactly a secret, and although I never said “never”, I think most assumed that by this point — 11 years married — that ship had likely sailed.

And to be perfectly honest, I kinda thought so too! 2019 was about to wrap when Chuck shared his thoughts with me one evening. Perhaps now was a good time to start thinking about it, he said. Maybe he was ready. We are basically “back home” in the DC area, he won’t deploy any time soon, and I finally had a career growth-oriented job.

He was not wrong, yet it still threw me for a loop. I had pretty much come to the conclusion that I was content without children, while he clearly wasn’t so sure. I’ll spare you the nuances of my emotional response and the many exchanges he and I would over the next year as we discussed the prospect, but long story short, I told him I would think about it. As long as we could plan for an epic 2020 to wrap up our wildly independent “youth,” I felt like it was a reasonable next step.

… but then the world gave a resounding LOL.

We all know how that story ends. 2020 surely was epic, but not in the way any of us hoped it would be, am I right?

Still, we made the best of it. I did manage to grow in my job, I had a few therapy sessions to talk through some long-standing anxieties, and we even managed to squeeze in a couple of trips. Sure, those trips weren’t to Jamaica or Tanzania or Norway as I had planned, but the Virginia mountains and Carolina beaches were still pretty lovely!

If nothing else, 2020 was a remarkable year for reflection, priority re-alignment, and personal growth in the face of challenge. It was a good year to truly contemplate our future, without the frenzied distraction of our typical, pre-Covid lifestyle.

Late summer/early fall, I took myself off the pill with the intention to let my body adjust and start “trying” early in the new year. But I must have conceived at some point that December, because in January 2021, I learned that I was already pregnant.

That story has a sad ending, because I miscarried mere days after the positive pregnancy test. It was very early and in all honesty, I was not ready to be pregnant yet. I’m not saying it was a good thing by any means, but I think it was the Universe’s way of demonstrating that the time wasn’t quite right. January was a rough month in more ways than one, and by the time we emerged from that early 2021 chaos and haze, I was in a much better place to seriously gear up for motherhood.

I conceived again sometime in May, with that pregnancy test popping positive late June. This time, I was happy and motivated to transition to this next phase of life. Despite being a “geriatric” pregnancy (otherwise known as “elderly primigravida” or “advanced maternal age“), things have progressed really well so far. I won’t jinx anything and of course I still wrestle with some anxiety — but I feel good about where we’re headed and look forward to welcoming our little boy late in February 2022, which is (eeeek!) JUST around the corner!

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