These days feel so surreal- our last few days in our world before kids. It’s weird thinking that there’s no real going back to this.
Over the weekend sometime, I rested my hand on Deanna’s pregnant belly. It brought me back to a moment from the summer of last year. We had been trying to get pregnant for about five or six months at that point, and another one had just gone by where we realized it wasn’t happening that month either.
“You’re going to be so cute when you get pregnant,” I told her, able to imagine so clearly how she’d look.
“If I get pregnant,” she corrected me.
“Yeah, sure,” I acknowledged half-heartedly. I was discouraged, but I’m also a stubborn optimist. I wanted to be open and humble to the fact that I wasn’t in control, but I also couldn’t let go of the feeling that it was supposed to happen.
Last night, as I felt his head and feet protrude, I remembered all that. This is really happening.
And our lives are about to change.
I Was Right
