Because I really should have started this blog when my son was first born, there is roughly 2.5 years of catching up to do. Actually more ... to begin, let's start at the very beginning.
I used to hate kids. Despise them, even. They were these sticky, smelly little strange creatures that made strange noises. I definitely did not grow up anticipating the day that I, too, would be known as "mom."
Oddly enough, that general feeling continued way into my 20's. I had graduated college, married the man of my dreams and settled into a nice, quiet life in the 'burbs.
Then it came - Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.
My biological clock.
I, literally, woke up one day and wanted a baby. My husband, however, was not so on board. So, we waited. I figured it was no big deal, wait a year or two and then have one. Nothing to worry about, right?
A year or so later, I found myself on August 17th, my birthday. During my work "birthday party" I was enjoying a laugh with my coworkers and gleefully snacking on the Blue Chip cookies they had gotten me to celebrate the occasion. Then, another of my coworkers chose to use the moment with all of us assembled to announce that she was pregnant. There was a sudden pang in my chest. And no, it wasn't a piece of my Blue Chip cookie caught in my throat. It was my heart. It wasn't until that moment that I realized just how much I wanted a baby.
Another year or so later, I found myself staring down at two pink lines. It was a positive pregnancy test. I took three of them, to be exact. When the box ran empty I finally accepted that, I was indeed, going to be known as "mom."
Now, I just had to get through my pregnancy.
I used to hate kids. Despise them, even. They were these sticky, smelly little strange creatures that made strange noises. I definitely did not grow up anticipating the day that I, too, would be known as "mom."
Oddly enough, that general feeling continued way into my 20's. I had graduated college, married the man of my dreams and settled into a nice, quiet life in the 'burbs.
Then it came - Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.
My biological clock.
I, literally, woke up one day and wanted a baby. My husband, however, was not so on board. So, we waited. I figured it was no big deal, wait a year or two and then have one. Nothing to worry about, right?
A year or so later, I found myself on August 17th, my birthday. During my work "birthday party" I was enjoying a laugh with my coworkers and gleefully snacking on the Blue Chip cookies they had gotten me to celebrate the occasion. Then, another of my coworkers chose to use the moment with all of us assembled to announce that she was pregnant. There was a sudden pang in my chest. And no, it wasn't a piece of my Blue Chip cookie caught in my throat. It was my heart. It wasn't until that moment that I realized just how much I wanted a baby.
Another year or so later, I found myself staring down at two pink lines. It was a positive pregnancy test. I took three of them, to be exact. When the box ran empty I finally accepted that, I was indeed, going to be known as "mom."
Now, I just had to get through my pregnancy.
Ha.
Settle in. That chapter is going to be long.
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