So far, every morning I go pee and simultaneously check for any signs of blood. Morbid, right? But I can’t help it. Every little twingy cramp, every time I feel “off,” every time I read something scary, my first wonder is if I’m not pregnant anymore. So many pregnancies end in miscarriage, and then, as we’ve learned, so many end after that, I just can’t get in into my head that this is real yet. I want to believe, and I even made Hubby buy me some baby stuff for Christmas (although it was really just this week and I won’t be putting it under the tree), but it’s hard to be convinced of it yet. I suppose that’s normal for someone who’s been burned like me, so I guess I don’t feel badly about it, but still, it stinks. I almost chickened out of blogging my good news for fear of jinxing myself. I’m really not even superstitious*.
You know what though? It’s exciting, and I feel like people will be psyched to hear the news (although I might just wait until the birth announcement to tell people so there’s no chance I’ll have to “untell” because man did was that terrible). They want us to be happy, and they know we want a baby, so they probably assume a new baby will make us happy. Transitive property and all. I just hope they don’t forget this one is Baby #2 and we all still need extra hugs for Baby #1, that little nugget Wyatt. I hope my uterus is one sticky, nutritious bitch this time!
*In my last post I had to use a different pregnancy test image from before, just in case. So I guess I am superstitious. Whatever.
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