The pressure has been mounting as last month ticked on by and all my co-bloggers shared poignant stories about the relationship aspects in their lives.
Sherry wrote about always being the bridesmaid, Katy wrote on the young married life without kids, Sarea shared her life, post divorce with 3 kids and now I’m here representing the married for a decade with two kids crowd. I think that sharing on this topic will be ongoing for all of us as we navigate through life and new things and experiences happen. Originally I was going to write about the fact Ben and I only have a 15% chance of our marriage surviving, but a recent experience bumped that post for now, although I plan to discuss that later this month.
For today, a humorous glance into our lives:
Our kids have no chance of being normal…
As women, specifically mothers, some of us have that magical knowledge when we know we are pregnant. That little secret, the adrenaline pounding knowledge that gives us the “glow” and even though we may be terrified- that feeling is there too.
Yesterday, my stomach felt weird, and not cramps weird, a different kind of weird. My stomach rumbled strongly and I had a pain on my right side- and suddenly I was transported 3 years ago when I knew that I knew that I was pregnant with Bug.
I sat in the mystery, wide awake but trying to take a nap. Bug choose that day to be the first to nap with me in bed, his usual crazy-needs-to-be-confined-in-a-pack-n-play self gone and an unusual docile toddler sweetly going to sleep in his place. His soft baby curls and long lashes against his pudgy cheeks made my heart swell. He sighed in his sleep and I was undone. I forgot about all the sleepless nights, the difficult days and how nursing nearly made me loose my mind…
I dreamed of a baby girl because the previous day Bear asked me, “pretty please can I have a sister? a baby? with long, pretty hair like yours!” and I smiled. I imagined pink, tutu’s and wondered how I’d get through the first trimester at work. I then got into the logistics of it all, wondering at the timing, finances, if I’d have to have another c-section and where I would hang the chandelier. (Above the crib or over the custom rocking chair? The *important* things.)
Feeling terrified and nervous, I haltingly told Ben I thought I was pregnant when he came to check on me later.
I felt weird and shaky, wondering how he’d react since I’m not the girl-who-cried-pregnant type and now really is terrible timing.
With his usual bluntness, and a tinge of bitterness, Ben retorted, “You’re NOT pregnant. You ate half my malt yesterday.”
…….. (milk + ice cream= severe stomach issues.) I never eat ice cream. His malt had magic or crack in it as my “1 little bite” turned into half his large chocolate malt. Hence his bitterness. It really had been delicious.
and that dears, is love. When your husband of 10 years knows you so well that he knows your *pregnancy* is really just a milkshake gone bad in your lactose intolerant system you know you need to keep him around.
Adieux for now. 