So here's the deal. I'm pregnant.
Shocking, I know, right? I'm pretty sure most people guessed it from my not-too-subtle end-of-2011 post.
I'm just over sixteen weeks along. Yup, that means that the month after I posted this, I got a positive pregnancy test. It was not that easy, though, and I may write a little more about that later.
So now I'm pregnant. At least, I think I am. Let's be honest, I haven't heard the heartbeat since my doctor appointment on January 11th, so there's plenty of room to wonder--are you still alive in there, baby? (I freaking hope so).
Anyway, we feel exactly the way you might expect. We're thrilled and we're terrified. And we basically ride the waves of those emotions up and down on any given day.
We didn't know what to call this baby, since Baby Duck was already taken by Eliza, and if Eliza were here, asserting her toddlerhood, we might have space for another Baby Duck in our hearts and conversations, but, well, she is our Baby Duck. So this is... Baby Duck Number Two? And that was just too long to say over and over again. So that's how this baby became The Deuce.
(Also because we're very klassy and we can't come up with a nickname for our second child that is not also a synonym for poop.)
I've been waiting to post about this pregnancy because I still feel like every time I mention it, I'm just inviting disaster. But guess what my therapist told me? There's absolutely no correlation between talking about pregnancy and pregnancy loss. (It sounds so obvious in retrospect, but she said that and I thought to myself, "OMG. This is why I'm paying to talk to you. Because you say logical and rational things that I need to hear.") We also waited a while to tell people we know in real life, and I didn't want word getting around through the wilds of the interwebz (Where, you know, everyone is just ABUZZ about what might be going on in my uterus. It's like I'm Beyonce or something.)
So anyway, that's where we are. At this point, things appear to be going well. (But remember, says the dark, twisty voice in my head, things also appeared to be going perfectly well with Eliza). In all probability, this baby will be okay. But we know better to put complete faith in statistics (probability can kiss my ass), and we are still a long way from my official due date of July 1.
So wish me luck. Because I think we freaking need it.