After binge-watching shows on Netflix and marathon cuddling with my kids for a couple of days, I finally got dressed and made it out into the world. After all, there were bills to pay, there was work to do, there was laundry to fold, and dishes to wash. There were six cute kids that really needed me to be their mom, and I really needed to be their mom.
This was January, and we got the okay to try again after two months, right around our birthday, but we didn’t have much hope that it would happen. Eight years of trying left us gun-shy, and we thought perhaps that had been our chance.
But out of trials comes blessings, and just as I was really starting to feel like I needed something different, that change and blessing came in the form of an old friend getting in touch and offering me a job. Same money, regular hours instead of the long, soul-sucking ones I had been putting in for years, and really just a wonderful opportunity to continue to work from home with a company and friend that I admired.
Jason’s foot was finally healed, and he no longer had the regular appointments, but we were as busy as ever. March rolled around, and Jason and I took a business trip to Georgia, the first time since our honeymoon we had gone away alone together. We each turned another year older on our shared birthday, and we got away to the coast for the weekend with the kids. But in spite of all of this, it’s no small thing to say that we were struggling. The events of the prior months had taken their toll on us, and our emotions, our partnership, our patience, our limits were all spent. We each threw ourselves into our respective jobs and other activities, completely ignoring the divide that was increasingly present.
The disconnect made me cranky, and I was going to bed with the kids, while Jason stayed up to watch TV. My crankiness extended into the mornings, when I’d wake to the alarm, barely able to rub the sleep out of my eyes, and rolling over I’d see Jason next to me, the mere sight of which would make me instantly irritable. He could literally do nothing right in my eyes.
We’d eat dinner at the table together as a family, and the way he chewed would set my teeth on edge. The way he made a sandwich. The way he looked, the way he smelled, the way he dressed, the way he walked… absolutely everything irritated the ever-living stink out of me, and somewhere inside of me I felt totally justified in feeling this irritation at his existence.
And then I took a test…
YES! YES! YES!
Pity my poor, long-suffering husband, but I was pregnant, and it looked like it was going to stick.
We told no one but my mom for a bit, and I immediately went to see my doctor.
By our calculations I was almost three weeks pregnant. Several weeks after that, as the wand touched my belly and the flickering heartbeat waved back at us, my hope, my faith, my dream were renewed. There was Benjamin. This was the yes.