The first inkling that I was pregnant again was signalled by a sudden craving for pickle sandwiches, pedicures and holidays in Paris (well, they’re the pregnancy cravings I get). But how to break the news to my husband? Perhaps the next time I was vomiting and he asked if there was anything he could do, I could simply reply, “Um, how about carry our third child to full-term?” Subtle yet dramatic. And more direct than a sudden declaration that I’d be declining all bungee-jumping invitations for the next nine months. I rehearsed the dialogue in my head but had no doubt that it would be just like the baby in my belly – so easy to conceive, so hard to deliver.
My husband was euphoric at my news. But I just couldn’t get excited. I tried to think of the miracle of life stirring within me. But my spouse had recently washed the dishes without me asking, so I felt I had already witnessed my miracle for the year.
Continue reading...from Pregnancy | The Guardian http://ift.tt/1IOv9ta
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