James wants a “baby brah-dah mama” my husband playfully mocks me as I wait for the results of my pregnancy test to appear.
Ahhh!! I let my guard down!! I didn’t realize James and his tiny poker finger had gained so much ground on my face with the help of his father. The entire length of my baby’s finger has made it inside of my left nostril. We all break out in laughter. Great, another “bad” habit we’re enforcing with our odd sense of humor.
Two minutes to go. Ugh, the wait.
It. Kills. Me. Every. Single. Time.
What is this I’m feeling? Anticipation of some sort. A longing? The excitement that comes with a new pregnancy? Fear? Check. Check. And check.
No, this possible pregnancy wasn’t planned. But while waiting here I can’t help but feel the excitement of the possibilities. My husband once again prods at me using my son’s “voice” and jabbing my shoulder with his baby hand, “baby brah-dah mama!” And I outwardly exclaim, “No!” But within the comfort of my own thoughts I imagine James wrestling with his future little brother in the living room.
Stop it with these majestic images! Darn you hormones and hope! Woman snap out of it! Do you not recall the triumphant adult sized meltdown you incurred yesterday when you removed the butter wrapper from your dumpster diving son’s hands?! Now, multiply that by two!
Oh, but the joy he brings! He is so worth it. Now imagine that love and multiply it by two. Touché ovaries, touché.
Clock reads 8:10 am, time to officially read the results.
My better judgement sighs a breath of relief, but a little piece of my heart is left aching.