Exactly three years ago today, I decided that I MUST be pregnant, and although we were hosting a Thanksgiving dinner at our house, and I hadn’t taken a pregnancy test, I opted to skip the booze. We had only been married for about three weeks, and at some point during those three weeks I got pregnant. I swear we had sex like once, and for the next three weeks my boobs were hurting so much that I had to take showers two to three times a day to ease my pain. I had never experienced that kind of pain in my breasts, so I thought, “I must be pregnant”. Okay, and the need for a peanut butter sandwich every day tipped me off too.
That morning I went out for a run and “Baby XY” (soon to be known as August) and I had a little chat. We made a deal. I offered to do the best I could as a mom if he could take it easy on me. I was new at this, I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and I didn’t think getting pregnant was going to be that easy. Even though Baby XY was merely the size of an atom at that point, we shook on our deal and went through the next nine months together. August really stuck to his side of the deal too. In fact he gave me an extra six days of freedom. Being pregnant for me was incredibly easy, once my boobs stopped hurting, so I was happy for him to be six days late. I kept joking that I could take another few months or so.
Besides the extra six days that August gave me, he’s always been a well-tempered baby (now toddler), and he’s easy on the eyes too. As a baby he only cried when he was tired or hungry (we had a 50/50 chance of getting it right), now as a toddler he’s a sheer pleasure to be around. I love every minute I spend with him (even if we are fighting over food, or whether he can bring Ducky on a walk), and consider myself incredibly lucky.
Today, I am thankful to have such a great kid, and I hope to hold on to these days when he hates me as a teenager. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.