Secret, Secret, I've Got a Secret

Well I'll be damned...

About six weeks ago, Aaron and I got some shocking news. News that has shaken us to our cores, news that has swept us off our feet, news that prompted my hubby to say, "You've got to be fucking kidding me," news that has led us on a wild emotional roller coaster ride and has left me craving spoons full of peanut butter and gallons of ice cold milk...

I'm pregnant. I am 10 weeks and 2 days pregnant today.
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Completely contrary to my nature, I have managed to (mostly) keep this little secret a secret since we found out. Sure, our immediate families heard the news right away, and thanks to an overzealous waiter who blew my cover at a Mexican restaurant at which I attempted to sneakily order a virgin sangria, a couple of close friends know. And, thanks to thin cubicle walls at my place of employment, a few coworkers know as well. But naturally, given the fact that our lives were touched with the tragedy of miscarriage a few short months ago, we wanted to keep these cards as close to our chests as possible until we were able to be reasonably certain that things wouldn't end up badly this time.

And the waiting has been extremely difficult. Every single ache and pain and twinge and cramp that I have experienced has sent me Googling like a mad woman. Ever since we got the surprise that I am pregnant again, there have been moments of crippling fear and anxiety. I have lain awake many nights, my hands over my belly, praying that we would get to meet this baby, our baby. But, something (perhaps the nausea and ceaseless fatigue and ACHING boobs) has told me that this time would be different.

Last Friday, we had our first prenatal appointment. I was so nervous--the appointment was with a new doctor (we fired my last OB) at a new clinic, and I was so afraid of what would happen that I could barely stand up. Aaron and I met the doctor (who is FABULOUS), she examined me, and after not being able to find the baby's heartbeat due to my uterus being stubbornly tipped toward the back (and due to the fact that I was only 9w4d), the doctor rolled in the ultrasound machine, hooked it up, and as my doctor caught the first glimpse of the inside of my uterus, she said the words that I had been longing to hear:

"Hi, sweetie."

She was talking to our baby.

And there was our baby, and there was the strong heartbeat, and there were the teeny tiny limbs that kicked and flailed as soon as my doctor said, "C'mon, move for your parents."

And I cried and cried, but this time, they were tears of joy.