Eleven

Can you believe that I’m 11 weeks pregnant already?

Time has flown by, and yet at the same time, I feel as though its all a little surreal. How is it that after being convinced that a baby was just beyond our reach, here we are, nearly at the 2nd trimester?

I am thrilled, and celebrating every moment of this pregnancy, yet I still grieve for my friends who are struggling with infertility. I know the stab of pain that comes from reading about yet another pregnancy. I know that several of you will probably stop reading and following, because its so difficult to read about someone else’s baby when you’re distraught over your lack of baby. And I completely understand. If my words hurt you, if you can’t bear to look at another positive pee stick or see another ultrasound photo, I understand. Because for two years, I was that person. I was the one who stopped following favourite blogs when the inevitable announcement arose. And there are no hard feelings. I know that you’re happy for me in the only way you can be. And when one day, you have an announcement of your own to make, I’ll be here with open arms. Please know that I am thinking of each and every one of you.

The bump photos will start soon, as both a warning and an announcement. I’m rocking a half-bloat, half-baby bump right now, big enough that I’m in maternity pants almost exclusively. People who don’t know me would assume I just have a stellar beer gut, and I’m okay with that. Because I know the truth.

We’re going public sometime after next week, because all of the people we would need to tell in “person” (ie not Facebook) have been let in on our little secret. It will be wonderful to not have to keep my mouth shut any more.

How is everyone else doing? Is January treating you well, or are you just anxiously waiting for the first signs of spring?

 

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