Ah, the birth story. It is time.

This is going to come in little, weird chunks, as I should have been writing all last year. Oh well. I regret that. I’ll throw it on the pile of regrets that lives behind my conscious mind, in the woodshed back there with something nasty from _Cold Comfort Farm_.

To start: the pregnancy. I had been terrified that it would be very difficult for us to have a baby, since I was 30 (aieee!) and since my own mother was a little nervous for me. Chad and I agonized about the decision as to when we should even start trying to have a baby. Well, I agonized and Chad looked at me askance and offered his opinions. We put off trying to have a baby for awhile longer than we had first anticipated, partially because of Chad’s job and partially because of mine. But then, just before our second anniversary, the time seemed right. We had gone on a big backpacking trip in the San Juans (my last desire before becoming a mom was to backpack with my husband again)– which became a Tour de Catorce and a timeshare in Pagosa — and we let the birth control lapse. In the meantime, life continued as usual. I ran a summer camp. I climbed Mount Evans with Mark. I attended a training for school. The only different thing was that I didn’t drink a thing, which wasn’t as difficult as I expected.

Within weeks I missed my period, and I knew something was different. I took a test. Yep. I took another test, since they seemed tricky. Yep. That night, I told Chad quietly, with a big smile. We both smiled, and things were calm — except I wasn’t. What if it was wrong? Per my doubting self, the next day I went to my mom’s house and took one last test.

Well, that said it all.

The normal pregnancy things began to occur. Smells were so different, so much more potent. As much as I had hated coffee before, the smell never bothered me so much. It actually reminded me of growing up and the mornings. But now it left me nauseated. I was tired and actually went to bed at a reasonable hour.

I was still worried about miscarriage, so Chad and I decided not to tell anyone  — beside our immediate families — until the first trimester was over. Our families were ecstatic, especially since my sister had announced her pregnancy just a few weeks before. Cousins! Just weeks apart! We were a little worried that Chad’s parents might spill the beans, since they were so excited and this was their first grandchild (my side was used to this by now, since it was the third), but they were good as gold.

In the meantime, I was amazed that a little being was growing inside of me, so very very tiny and so very, very full of potential. Just thinking back to that time makes me smell and feel the almost-constant nausea, but it was all overshadowed by the easily-missed reality of producing a new life. Wow. Wow. Wow. Women always talk about how life-changing it is, but it truly is something that is hard to share unless you’ve experienced it.

Still so cool to me: I was pregnant while I climbed Mount Evans with Mark, though I didn’t know it. My baby had been up a 14er already! We can debate the nuances of this fact as much as we want, but I still think it’s awesome.