The last time I sat down in front of my computer and made a post in this blog was one week before I gave birth to baby J. I’d spent the weeks leading up to his birth sharing with you my experience of being pregnant. And last night my husband and I reread all of those posts, with giant grins plastered across our faces, I might add. Remembering the way my mother-in-law reacted to our news, the horrible fish oil, the first time we heard our baby’s heartbeat, the moment my husband and I saw our baby for the first time… it was a joy to relive each of those memories all over again. And, last night, as I read the posts aloud, I was so grateful that I’d taken the time to write all of those things down. Which brings me to this decision – to start blogging again. I’ve missed it.
If you read any of the older posts in the blog you may recall that it took us exactly two years to get pregnant with baby J. We decided on a Christmas morning we were ready to start a family and then two Christmas mornings later, we found out we were expecting. Best. Christmas. Present. Ever.
He was born at 39 weeks. My labor was 15 hours long. My husband was next to my side the entire time. I’d gone in with the plan to say “no” to any offers of pain management drugs – and then changed my mind around hour 10 of labor. We’d also made a hard and firm decision to never use a pacifier – then changed our mind about that on day 5. He smiled for the first time (and I mean really smiled, because he wanted to smile) on October 9, 2012. He discovered he had toes on January 20, 2013. He slept through the night from day one – all the way to 6 months and 5 days. He had his first newspaper mention on March 30, 2013 (his daddy was in a kayak race and a photographer took a picture of us huddled under an umbrella in the pouring rain cheering daddy on). He fell in love with ducks on May 28th, 2013. He walked from one side of the room to the other for the first time on July 28, 2013. He ate his first (and his second) cupcake on August 23, 2013. He had his first conversation with me on September 27, 2013 (Me: pulling his pacifier from his mouth, “Nap time is over. Give me that thing.” Him: shaking his head back and forth,”No”, then grabbed the pacifier back and popped it into his mouth). He proved to me he was tall enough to steal cookies off the kitchen table on October 26, 2013. He decided on November 17, 2013 that he doesn’t like homemade pickled beets (also the same day I vowed that to eventually change his mind about that). On December 29, 2013 he discovered that a fork can be used as a comb. On February 24, 2014 he had his first scoop of Glacé ice cream (maple bacon) and loved it. He became a harmonica aficionado on March 2, 2014. On April 22, 2014 he pooped in the potty for the very first time. And, on May 8, 2014 I told him he was going to be a BIG BROTHER.
Yes! I’m pregnant again! And so so very happy about that. 🙂
This baby only took us nine months. I’d told my husband that I didn’t even want to think about having another until our first was one year old. I wanted to make sure I was completely present for his first full year of life. By that I mean focusing on him and not on becoming pregnant. The frustration I felt during the two year span (well, really just the last year and a half) that we spent trying to get pregnant the first time was overwhelming. And at times consuming. And I didn’t want that to become an issue if we tried again. Not until my first baby was no longer a baby at least.
And, I’m happy to say that during the nine months we tried for baby #2, I handled everything much better. Sure, I had a few “Why is this happening again? What is wrong with us? Why can’t we get pregnant?” moments with a few close friends. But, those moments were greatly overshadowed by, “Thank you, God, for blessing us with such a sweet and awesome baby! He was totally worth the wait!” moments.
And I mean it. What an awesome kid. He’s going to be an amazing big brother. 🙂