A note to Babytwo
With my history of recurrent miscarriage, I held my breath when the pregnancy test in October was positive. We’d decided to try without the medications that, I believe, kept your brother in place.
I don’t know when I started breathing again, but I’m doing it now. In and out.
I am amazed at my body’s ability to keep this going on its own, and I wonder about the randomness of it all. It’s like those stories about women who struggle with infertility and adopt a child, only to become pregnant afterwards.
All of this also leads me to wonder if it’s random at all. Maybe the difficulties of that and the ease of this are us getting the exact children we were meant to have.
I’ll never know. Or maybe I will. Or maybe it only matters what I believe.
You, baby girl, have hung in there. We moved across the country, living here and there in-between. My stress, no matter how I attempted to relieve it, was high. You’ve been through it all with us, and I sit here now, on a Thursday afternoon in January, while your brother sleeps, and I feel the popping of your movements within me, and I believe in you.
