Oh, what a difference a year can make

It’s crazy, how a little bit of time can pass and everything starts to look a little differently.

Take today, for example. Today, I went in for my routine pre-natal checkup. I’ll be 24 weeks tomorrow and everything today looked great — Baby Manet’s heartbeat was chugging away and I’m measuring on track (actually, a week ahead).

Everything is as it should be. And did I tell you, Baby Manet is a boy? A beautiful, healthy baby boy.

Baby Boy 20 weeks

Baby Manet 4 weeks ago at our A/S.

In fact, I’ve been blessed this time around by a completely boring, run of the mill pregnancy, and the incredible miracle of that fact isn’t lost on me. I’ll never take a boring appointment for granted, because I know too well what a non-routine appointment looks and feels like.

So today, I smiled throughout my boring appointment. I gleefully reported the “All Good!” to my husband, my mom and my sister.

When I got home, I turned on the TV and scrolled through the usual stuff on my phone to catch up: Facebook, Instagram and Timehop.

There, one year ago today and stored on my camera roll, was the picture of the positive pregnancy test that told us we were expecting what would turn out to be our second loss.

One year ago today, I was going through the ups and downs of excitement and fear, not knowing whether this would be it (but thinking, surely, it had to be).

That loss turned out to be more devastating than I could have expected. We had tempered hopes — we’d been down that road before — but never had any inclination anything was wrong until our first appointment at almost 11 weeks.

That was nearly nine weeks of blissful ignorance; nine weeks of thinking it was our turn. Nine weeks to find out it wasn’t, to discover that boring then wasn’t what boring is now, followed by months of waiting for the all clear to try again. Months of being tormented by anger, grief, sadness and helplessness.

All of that started, one joyful moment, one year ago today.

Yet, as I sit here typing, our baby boy is bouncing around inside my belly, reminding me this time that boring means everything is OK. That boring is a good thing, a wonderful thing, and I can’t help but be so incredibly happy.

I’ll never forget the past year, of course, but being only 16 weeks away from meeting this little guy is making it sting so much less. Blurring the edges. Making it all worth it.

It’s only been a year, but oh, what a difference a year can make.

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