Four years and nine months ago today I woke up feeling icky. My sugar was low, I felt faint, and I took a pregnancy test in the afternoon. 15 seconds later I was pregnant. When I called my doctor, who by now was an old friend, he asked how I was, "Pregnant, how are you?" He actually said, "No you're not."
I was told, with my issues, I was lucky to have her young, at 22. It hasn't always been an easy road. I threw up almost everyday for nine months. I was in labor for 28 hours. Post partum depression was huge, as was colic, and plain old first time mommy issues. But every day when I realize she's not getting any smaller and I remember how she used to be, I realize my grandmother was right, every stage is precious, and I need to cherish her here and now, and not regret the past, mistakes I may have made, things I wish I'd done. The present is what counts.
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