Anyway, a few weeks later Mari had a tantrum about a baby in my belly and wanting to be the baby. She kept pointing to my belly saying "no baby, me baby," so a phone call to my grandmother later led me to believe that I needed to take a test. We had a wonderful and happy surprise!!!
And then the deep dark creepies crept their lanky selves into the ever-increasing walls of doubt that began to come out of nowhere. I became hyper-paranoid and freakishly panicked. Each time I went to the bathroom, I had a full-fledged anxiety attack that left me sighing heavily and finishing up with tears at the thought of having to go again. It became really tricky to hide the puffy eyes and smeared make-up at work, but after turning to my Bible and giving it all to God, I slowly became less skeptical and more hopeful. It didn't matter what happened last year (at almost the exact same time, no less), this was a new opportunity. I made my peace and found myself talking to the baby, rubbing my belly, and wishing all hopes and dreams for a healthy child to the one growing in my womb. Each night I gave thanks to God for shedding grace on us again, allowing for hope and wishful thinking. I made the doctor appointment and all that remained was waiting to meet the jellybean.
I wrote Don an email, detailing why I'd chosen the nickname for the growing baby, Tesla*:
Our Tesla is a bringer of light and electricity. I'm so excited at all of the possibilities. I think of the long late nights and you know what, I say bring it. Bring it all on. I'm ready for it. Because I'd rather have it than not. Give me the nausea, the bloat, the aches, the pains, the stretch marks, the uncomfortableness, the insomnia, the tears, the blood, and snot and mucus and pee and vomit too, I'll gladly exchange it for that first smile, that belly laugh, the giggle rumbles, the baby babbling, the tiny feet, and the opportunity to pause and look at life all over again from a much brighter perspective.
It's gonna take a little time.