Why Not?

October 4, 2011

I stomp out the embers of excitement until they grow cold in the dirt, not out of cruelty, but as a means of protecting myself from hurt.

This morning, under the crushing weight of evil twins Worry and Fear, I continued my prayer for some sort of reassurance, the lasting kind I know can only come from a loving Father. I explained to him how I’m scared to hope, scared to be happy or excited, because, well, the less you go up the less you come down.

I corresponded with a friend who’s planning a wedding:
-Wooooohoooo! (Of course, that said, I’ll likely be largely pregnant by that time.)
-Well, we will just have to find you a pretty preggers dress.
-Yes, do. Something that will fit an . . . .(counts fingers) 8.5 month preggo belly.
-Are you counting a known entity or “The Plan”?
-The Plan has been loosely interpreted. Last Thursday, I peed on a stick last week and saw , so it’s official.

I typed the words “it’s official” haltingly. In the aftermath of hitting Send, I thought about those words. Excitement popped its head back up, looking warily for an all-clear from my relentless stomping.

Then, the tiniest whisper of a voice.

Why not just be happy? It’s OK to be happy!

And so I am.

I am giddy like a schoolgirl, giggling and delighted, reveling in the lightness of being that comes from having the dark cloud of those gloomy twins dispelled.

It feels good!


And it's almost tempting enough to start sharing the news, declaring my happiness to the world. . .


Almost.


(Maybe for my birthday?)


In the meantime, I'm only 4 weeks pregnant, but I feel like I look like I'm 4 months.
True story.

~Nichole