33 weeks ago, I posted the picture on the left: I was preparing for our Fourth of July trip to Idaho and basking in the glow of pregnancy. Except when, of course, I wasn't. I was uncomfortable for a lot of my pregnancy: I was tired, achy, crampy, and generally cranky. I remember writing bitterly about how much I hated being pregnant (then deleting and rewriting to be a little more, ah, gentle). It was in June and July that my preeclampsia issues first surfaced (although we had no idea at the time): I was swelling into the massive foot monster I would become, my hands and wrists were beginning to ache, and I was getting headaches, stomachaches, and heartburn.
However, now that I look back on it: I wish I was still pregnant. I could, realistically, be pregnant over and over again. In the moment, it wasn't fun. But I'm already thinking excitedly about my next baby: when is it appropriate to get pregnant again? How old do I want Forrest to be? Why do I have to wait so long??
Forrest is 19 weeks today. One year ago tomorrow, I excitedly bought three different kinds of pregnancy tests (including one of the fancy digital read out kinds) and waited (not-so-patiently) for Danny to get home so I could use them. He stood in the kitchen while I stood in the bathroom and watched one test get a faint second line, another test get a faint crossed line, and the digital read out say YES.
We immediately got in the car and drove to my parents house to tell them the good news. I can tell you exactly what I was wearing that day (my navy blue dress with the coral and tan stripe on the bottom, with long sleeves). I can tell you that I changed into my leggings and hoodie to go to my parents. I can tell you that a few days later, I went to Target and bought prenatal vitamins, then walked through the baby section over and over, imaging myself
I can't believe how quickly a year went by. Mainly because, I can't believe how swiftly my life changed, how magnificently well my body put together a baby (preeclampsia included).
I feel like I say this every time I write but: I never know how much I could love a human being until Forrest was born. The love I feel for him is so deep and so intense, it's overwhelming. Our first night in the hospital, Danny was dozing on the little camp bed in our room; I was feeding Forrest and started to cry. I whispered, "I love him so much. I just love him so much." I find myself having to fight back this same feeling every single day.
Forrest has made me feel whole as a person for the first time in my life. The love I have for him makes me view my pregnancy with new, very rose-tinted glasses! I miss being pregnant the same way I miss him when I'm at work: I'm still so used to having him with me all the time, it's hard to be away from him... I miss feeling his kicks, his turns and flips. It's a very strange feeling to miss the things that used to keep me awake--mainly because these days I'm kept away by his real life kicks, turning, and cries.
It's just another reminder that, before I know it, he'll be a year old, three years old, we'll have another baby, that baby will turn one... on and on for eternity, time passing. So, note to self: stop feeling sad that you can't blog as much as you used to, that you have no idea what's going on in the world. You have baby cuddles to enjoy.