Love is the only thing that ever changed me.    –Ann Voskamp

Well, it’s happened. The Husband has knocked me up. And one of the hardest things about the last few weeks (besides the nausea, exhaustion, abdominal discomfort, constant urination…don’t worry, I’ll recap later) has been the necessity for temporary silence on the matter as we waited for a series of confirmations from the white-coated ones, and for the slowest period of time in my life to pass by. But here we are, the day after our first trimester screening, with a clean (so far) bill of health and almost thirteen weeks under our belts. Time to breathe…and then, plan madly.

Words are just exploding inside that part of me where they’re kept, the soul/heart depository where they take form before they’re sent to my brain, and I’ll have a lot to write about in the coming months about what has already happened and what’s coming (like I have any idea of that). But for today–this day when I woke up like a kid on Christmas morning and rushed downstairs to look at our kid’s picture again–I’m just basking in the wonder of it all. I’m dwelling in the spot where I was yesterday, lying back on a table with TH beside me and gel on my belly and a video monitor in front of us, and we saw our child’s ten fingers and flailing legs and beating heart and The Moment happened. The Moment you hear about, when it all becomes real; when morning sickness (what a bullshit name–it’s ALL DAY sickness) and alien body invasions and alcohol restrictions fade into the background and the bean is finally a baby and it’s ours and its blood is pumping in tandem with mine and I am overwhelmed by the reality that miracles still happen and nothing will ever be the same and my heart has grown exponentially more than three sizes and it’s all just a little too much for one blog post. That’s where I’ll be hanging out if you need me.

There, and with The Niece for her head-measurement appointment, because all of a sudden it’s not only imperative that I spend time with her for my sake, but so that she can get to know her Future Cousin. And then TH and I will drive south, stopping at The Mom and Dad’s for a night before heading to the coast for a friend’s wedding. And then we’ll come back and I’ll write. I’ll write about the magic of it all, but I won’t shortchange you on the truth–the mixed feelings that come along with this change. Because, let’s face it: I’ve been single most of my life and independent for half of it (minus some loan infusions from The Dad) and our world is about to turn upside down in every way possible. I will have to learn how not to be a monster without eight hours of sleep. I will be sober for six more months. I will have to share TH’s attention (boo!). I will share my news with friends who are still struggling with their own waiting and hoping, and I will be reminded that this world we live in is never devoid of joy or sorrow. I will have a permanent reminder of how much I don’t know or control. And I will, blessedly, need grace more than air for every second of the way. Thank God it never runs out.