I feel like I’m in a sticky situation. I want to be jumping up and down. After 2 1/2 years of trying shouldn’t I be over the moon? Instead I’m wandering around alternating between utter disbelief and abject terror.
I’m still so shocked. I genuinely did not believe we’d ever get here. I figured we’d do all we could and then accept our life.
And now that we’ve made it 10 steps past never, I can’t imagine never having had these last 2 days. And I’m terrified that it won’t last. And that I’ll be back to never before you know it.
Proceed with caution is the sign flashing in my head. I view being pregnant as a ‘right now’ thing – completely separate from having a baby. I don’t feel like I’m having a baby. That’s something that happens to people who succeed in being preggo. Me? I’m just a rookie.
It’s like I’ve been to a thousand job interviews for a position that ‘those people’ get and I don’t. Except I catch a break. And get hired. On a day-to-day basis. We’ll see how it goes. If it goes well, you can come back tomorrow.
Will it get easier? Will I get to be thrilled? Will it end? Soon? In a tempest of tears?
Shit. I’m mad at infertility today – for robbing me of the chance to be blissful about this.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m happy – I’m flabbergasted. But I’m also afraid and concerned and madly in love with something that’s now the size of a poppy-seed. And I don’t want anything to come between me and the bubblebabies.