The Faint Line

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To catch you up to my current life, I have to go back a little. It all began with one faint line. Ok, well, it began before that, but this is not a lesson in human biology. After one faint line, I went and bought a pregnancy test that declared you pregnant or not pregnant just to be sure.

Yep. Pregnant.

In your late 20s, this is an acceptable thing. Especially if you are married.  And especially if you live in southern Indiana. In fact, I was late to the baby game. Several of my friends were on number 3 or 4. But the faint line was not my plan. Fast forward 10.5 months (because H as I will call him did not want to come into this world), and I was holding my handsome little man. (also, pregnancy is actually 10 months, not 9..)

After a rocky first week, we started to get into a routine and by week 7 of my maternity leave, I actually started venturing out of the house with H. This was nerve-wracking and I realized very quickly how horrible everyone else drives. (and also got honked at several times for going to slow-PRECIOUS CARGO PEOPLE!) I had the great luxury to take a full 12 weeks off work. I cherish those 12 weeks and have become an increasingly strong advocate for paid maternity leave (which I am sure will come up later). H and I got into a routine, figured out breastfeeding, and bonded in some incredible ways. And while those 12 weeks we by way too fast, when it was finally time to head back to work, I felt ready.  I wasn’t sure what I was ready for, but I also did not feel the depression and agony most people described I would or should have.

And so I spent a final weekend snuggling with my little man and preparing everything we needed for Monday. I packed diaper bags and work bags and lunches and bottles. I doubled checked the car seat and laid out my clothes and his. I avoided talking about it and even avoided church because I could not deal with one more person asking me about the impending Monday.


..stay tuned for The First Day.

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