But now I am 11 weeks into it and it looks like everything is exactly like a pregnancy should be. I've been sick and tired and they tell me this is good. (And really, I am glad, because I need
a little a lot of reassurance that this is real and happening - every day.) I think I am over the sick part (mostly) but I'm pretty sure I'll be exhausted for the next two years. And I am starting to out-grow my clothes (mostly). And I have started to think (most of the time), at least to myself, that come February, we are having a baby. I've even started knitting for baby. So it must be true. We're having a baby. And mostly, I am really excited about it. But I would be lying if I didn't admit that there is a lurking little nagging feeling that pops up every now and then reminding me just how precarious and precious all of this really is.
So for now, I tell people that we are expecting. And that, I think, is exactly what we are doing.