Whew, it was such a relief to put up the last post with our great news, particularly since the Coxlet feels it’s time to start becoming visible on my body. And of course, there was such an awesome outpouring of congratulations and well-wishes, both here and on Facebook. I do wish I could tell everyone in person, but at the very least I’m glad we can share our joy here with many. I was also particularly touched by the number of women who commented that they had been (or are) in the very same boat– two under two, surprise pregnancy, etc.. I will admit that one of the things we thought after finding out was, “Wow, we’re one of those families! Two under two. Two kids in less than two years of marriage!” (It’s all good…honeymoon baby for #1). We weren’t saying this in a deprecatory way at all, but more just marveling, I suppose. I mean, we both grew up watching young families with many little ones, and often spaced close together. I never planned to be that way, and there is definitely something about the NFP culture that makes you feel like a bit of a failure if you don’t have the wonderful 14 months of lactation amenorrhea (read: no cycles post-partum while breastfeeding), and subsequent nicely spaced babies, two years apart. Anyway, I’ve been doing a good deal of pondering on this whole topic, and will probably share some of my thoughts in the near future. For now, I’m digging out the maternity shirts and will head to the midwife for my first appointment on Wednesday!
17 weeks tomorrow! Excuse the poor quality. I’m convinced there’s something wrong with our iPad camera (and it’s only 9 months old…), or we’re truly abysmal photographers.
Meanwhile, in apartment-packing land, things are slowly progressing. The progress is hard to see, since we really can’t pack up one entire room, and have the satisfaction of seeing it and saying, “Lovely! The ENTIRE living room is packed!” I have a sinking feeling that remark will only be uttered on moving day, which is on Saturday. Oh well. It’s been a good reason to once again simplify our things. Why did I ever want to keep all 75 vases/pitchers/glasses we used as wedding centerpieces?! And how many articles of clothing can three people own?! I dread the thought of ever moving with a large family, and I know one day that will happen, maybe more than once. Moving is just so jarring. You rip your soon-to-be former home apart, place it in boxes, haul boxes and very heavy furniture out to a truck or vans, and then have to thoroughly clean out the gutted rooms. And while you’re packing, you still have to live in the space, now littered with all your belongings, newspapers, bubble wrap, and various-sized boxes and bags. I’m pretty sure humans were not designed to do this as often as we do. Or at least this human wasn’t.
I had better be off to more sorting and packing while this is still a reality: