A year ago, today, I found out I was pregnant.
It wasn't meant to be, and life went on. But it's been a year, and I have been thinking about it a lot lately. Not the miscarriage, specifically. Just the idea of having babies and raising kids.
I want to hold our baby in my arms and not feel afraid and awkward; because I'll be 100% sure that this tiny body is made for them.
I want to raise a child and see who they turn out to be.
I want to take hundreds of photos in one week, and not have to justify why.
I want to see if we really do end up with a redhead. Praying their temper doesn't match!
I want to watch Eric with our child. I see glimpses when we go to Ohio, and they're maddening, sometimes.
I want to finally be able to relate to all the scrapbooking moms out there.
I want to hear Sesame Street music and a little voice singing along.
But at the same time, it's a major life change that I'm just not ready for. Physically, mentally, and everything else. WE are not ready.
But we're getting there.
