Something I never expected to say again in this lifetime was, “I’m pregnant”. I never thought I’d be able to say to my husband “you’re going to be a father of two”. I’m pregnant at 40. Making the last one was hard enough. I was ok with being a mother of one, I really was. And now, I’m going to have another baby.
16 weeks pregnant. Five scans later I’ve got to accept it, it’s true. I’m the age I am, at the stage of life I’m in, and I’m pregnant. This was not how I expected 2016 to be. At all!
I didn’t even tell my husband until I’d sneaked an early scan in, just to make sure. We’ve been in a state of happy denial ever since! But now, as my always chubby body begins to give the game away and I’m getting the ‘is she pregnant or just a bit fatter’ stares, it’s time to come clean.
I’d not be telling the truth if I said I was over the moon, thrilled, ecstatic. I’m sort of beyond that realm. I’m very, very apprehensive. But I’m also filled with wonder. How can this be? After nearly ten years of it being so out of the realms of possibility, medically and mentally, God and nature have given us a new gift to attempt to treasure. Another broad ribbon of joy to weave into the tapestry of our marriage.
And can I be so lucky as to be visited again by another creature that bewitches me with its being to the point that I forget every single other thing that ails or worries me?
We’ll see. But for now, it’s good, good news.