My mom gave me the baby books she had kept while pregnant and during my first few months of life. Last night I started to read through them. Seems that every time she would get up or move around, she would start to bleed and the doctor would send her back to bed.
For six months.
So there was so much depression involved in her pregnancy- so much waiting and wondering and praying and hoping. So many lonely days of staring at the wall, waiting for my dad to come home. Many of the entries have nothing written in them- what did she have to say? I'm sure most of the days were the same as the last.
They noted that they were excited about receiving this new treatment called an "ultra sound." Which my dad now describes as looking like 'coffee grounds they swirled around'- which now that I see them I see he's totally right.
But it's different than that, because it's one of the last pieces of my childhood that I've got. So much of my stuff was gotten rid of after our house burnt, and then with the intense flooding last September I lost all my diaries, awards, keepsakes, papers, pictures...you name it. So seeing these 'coffee ground' looking pictures of me as a little pea pod--well, it got me excited, that's all.
My mom had a 30 inch waist when she found out she was pregnant. And she was like, seven feet tall. No, like just a few inches shy of six feet. So she carried my quite nicely. (I can't imagine what I'm going to look like at 5 foot 4 inches...)
Oh and get this- dad planted a sunflower in the window box that mom could see so she could watch it grow. So sweet, right? @---------->>
Last night we were snuggling in bed and Andy was holding me, inquiring of my belly if there was anything in it. I assured him there wasn't. No symptoms, no nothing. And it was the first month after all! And I inquired of him if he'd like to try again next month, since this month was so much fun :) He just said, "Well, we don't know there isn't anything in there yet..." He's a good man.