Every once in a while I get these huge reality doses that strike me so hard in the chest it's a wonder I am still breathing. This one happened exactly one year ago. It was one irresponsible night. A night my husband and I acted like carefree teenagers. The night that Harper was conceived.
It is so clear for some reason and I am not sure why. I knew the timing was right on schedule and I worried immediately. Then I blocked it out, for 7 weeks. My friend even called about a week after "the night" to tell me she had had a dream that I was pregnant. I told her "she was on crack" verbatim. In only six weeks I would find out that I was indeed pregnant. I would cry when I got the results because I was not ready to have a baby again. I am ashamed to admit that.
The nine months where filled with emotions and so much fear. How could I possibly split all the love I have for Mason with another baby. I've been told everyone experiences those exact feelings. And everyone tells you "you just do. You find a way and you just do." And they are right, sort of. I've never had to split it. I feel like a am able to give more love now. As if once my baby was born, I filled up with love ready to give instead.
So now one year later I look at my most perfect baby girl and wonder how I could have ever been unsure about having another baby. She is sweet and smiley and easy going, the perfect addition to our family. So now looking back exactly one year all I can think is, "Thank God for our one crazy, irresponsible night."