Early in the morning on Valentine's Day last year, I took a pregnancy test two weeks after our first time of "trying" to conceive. Cheesy, I know. I didn't exactly plan it that way -- it was simply the earliest day I could test with a reliable result. Regardless, I just knew I was pregnant. I had all kinds of whacky signs and symptoms like chills, exhaustion, weird pains, etc. So, I took the test . . . anxiously waited for a few minutes and thought about what a fantastic gift this would be for Stephen.
We were going to have a baby!
The minutes ticked by slowly.
I saw a line.
Maybe a second?
Possibly . . . ?
It was most definitely NEGATIVE.
I mean of course it was negative. It was our f.i.r.s.t t.i.m.e trying. But I had worked myself up so much with imaginary symptoms. And those two weeks waiting to know for sure were maddening.
So, instead of a baby, I gave Stephen Chinese takeout and some sort of chocolate dessert. The next month? Well . . . I guess this was a good birthday gift.
It's strange to think about if we had conceived that first time. What THAT baby would be like. If it would have been a boy or a girl. If it would have had Stephen's eyes and mouth . . . and my nose and chin. If it would kick and scream or smile and laugh in the same way.
I'm not a terribly spiritual person, but I definitely feel like Ada was somehow meant to be ours. I can't imagine loving any other drooling, pooping, constantly spitting up(ing?) baby quite as much.
Though it has been a journey (if you don't know what I mean, read about Falling in Love with Ada), this love has been more intense than any other bond I have felt.
Ada Mae: You might be the gassiest baby in the world, waking us each and every morning with your symphony of toots (farts, according to Stephen is too crass to use in relation to a baby), but it's music to our ears. We truly do love you and always will.
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