Next week will mark the very end of my first trimester of my second pregnancy in which the first three months of which have been a real nail biter, I tell ya.
This dear sweet tiny Christmas baby is trouble with a capital T. My husband is convinced that he is a boy, whereas I am certain that she needs to be a girl, or else Bee's six thousand pink outfits are really going to have to become the new blue.
When I was pregnant with Bee, everything went by the book; there were no scary episodes, no evening visits to the emergency clinic, no doubt that it might all come crashing down in an instant. (Ever seen a doctor do an ultrasound while talking on his cell phone at the same time? Come to Romania and you too can have this interactive experience!)
Thankfully, things have taken a turn for the better. Despite this, worry still seems to creep into the edges of my everyday life. I cannot control what happens. I can only do my best to take care of myself and pray.
And breathe out.
1 comment:
CONGRATULATIONS. :)
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