Long Lost Love

Let's just start with the obvious - life has gotten immeasurably more complex since 2013 (new house, unexpected pregnancy, miscarriage, sorta-unexpected pregnancy, new baby, postpartum depression, and so on).

When I found out I was pregnant the second time around, I wanted to revive my blog. Pregnancy and motherhood opens the door to a whole new level of crazy and so of course, I feel the need to share my mess with y'all. (Remember, I'm country now so the use of "y'all," is obligatory.)  So here you can read all about my mishaps, foibles, triumphs, frustrations, and hopes that accompany my journey as a city-girl-turned-country-turned-new-mom.

Disclaimer: I am not an expert at anything, especially parenting. In fact, I'm pretty confident in my lack of parenting skills. I've come to embrace my ignorance, and I'm convinced it's what makes life so dang entertaining. But I know how to love and I know how to make people laugh. That's what counts, right?

My story begins with the fact that I actually had a baby. Willingly. For years, I had no ardent desire to reproduce, for no reason other than children are a LOT of work. And they're expensive. And they have sticky fingers. And they throw up without warning. And they always smell like maple syrup. And they require my attention before 8am on any given day. I digress.

Going into our marriage, I knew that the Man wanted kids so I kept the idea on the distant radar. A little over a year ago, I was pushing 28, 29, 30 and we realized that if we wanted to start a family without an AARP membership, we had to get started.

Two months later, I was crumpled on the floor of our bathroom with a positive pregnancy test in my hand sobbing hysterically. I was in shock that it happened so dang quickly. (Thanks, Mom for your awesome fertility genes. Really helped me ease into this.) I was scared, nervous, mad...anything but joyful. Then I felt incredibly guilty for not being joyful, when so many women struggle with infertility. I was a wreck. I immediately drove to the school where the Man was in the middle of coaching wrestling practice, stormed across the mat with the pee-soaked stick in hand, and proceeded to cry that my life was over.

In typical Man fashion he got a huge grin on his face, held me close and thanked God there was a reason why I was bat-crap crazy.

There's a lot more to this story, but the Bear Cub is requiring my services immediately. To be continued!