Mr. A and I kept repeating that to ourselves this week, as we cleaned and cleaned and cleaned the house and I wracked my brain trying to think of who I’d forgotten to send thank-you notes to for various acts of kindness since May 16 of last year.
Saint Jude, who has always been my cosmic homeboy, I could really use an assist today if you’re not busy with real problems.
— Athenae (@Athenae) May 16, 2013
That was the date of the embryo transfer. Two days before Mr. A’s master’s degree graduation, and about a week into a combination of work/family drama meltdowns that made this summer into a blur. Mr. A changed jobs twice in four months. In July I worked 28 days out of 31. We almost moved to Seattle in September and then, a week or so later, we almost moved to New York.
A week after that we settled on remaining where we were, which involved emptying half our hole in the wall to make room for a kidlet, moving a storage space into another storage space, and throwing out our last piece of authentically dumpster-dived furniture. Chicken died. I took on a writing gig I had absolutely no way of fulfilling and biffed it so badly I can’t even think of a way to apologize.
This has been, compared to all the horror stories people have told me, a very easy pregnancy. She’s been very well-behaved: No drama, no scares. No bed rest, I could work right up until today, she’s mostly let me sleep. I’ve been the problem: I sprained my ankle the first week of August, then developed a vicious sinus infection that still hasn’t gone away. I took the hint when the mercury dropped below zero and it wouldn’t stop snowing: Stay inside, already, and rest.
People kept telling me to slow down and sit down and put things down. Friends and family came to visit, to keep me from going absolutely bonkers. You all, with your support and your messages and your boundless good will and energy … I can’t even say. Before we told anyone, I felt so locked down, as if one errant word would doom the whole thing to disaster. After, all I could think was how lucky this kid was, to have so many people she’d likely never meet in person cheering her on.
Tonight, there’s not much more to do. Her nursery is done, as outfitted with what we think she’ll need as we can make it. The house is as clean as we can get it. The car seat’s installed in the car, and at the crack of dawn, we’ll be off to the hospital.
See you on the flip side. And thank you all.