Almost ten years ago, I was told getting pregnant would be a chore, if it was even possible.
Three years ago, I was insensitively remind of that fact – as if I had somehow been able to forget.
Thirty-five weeks ago, I was told that we were lucky to be pregnant and should know that our child would likely be premature – not just a few weeks premature but a scary, unhealthy, few months premature.
Three weeks ago, I was told that we have proven all the textbooks and literature wrong. We beat the odds which were stacked unbelievably high against us.
One week ago, we celebrated thirty-six weeks – a date I thought I would be celebrating with an infant or, worse-case, in the NICU.
I spent hours researching premature babies and reading NICU parenting blogs – I thought I was preparing myself for the inevitable. Turns out, I was just being the overly prepared mother who didn’t trust her instincts and, instead, listened to textbooks.
I had forgotten how incredibly stubborn I am and how incredibly stubborn Daddy is. I failed to take into account that this kid is half of each of us.
(Hammie – If you are half as stubborn as I think you are, we are in trouble. If you are half of the overachiever you have been so far, I can’t wait to see what you will accomplish.)
(the song is only slightly related to this post. Mainly, it is Daddy’s fav – possibly, of all time)