Good morning. It is December 28th—9:02 am. My parents are at the grocery store, the dog is tearing up her Christmas present at my feet, Michael is taking the ingredients out of the fridge for breakfast, and my siblings are fast asleep upstairs.

I am sitting on an armchair, tablet in my hands, writing to you, wearing my kitty-cat pajamas that Grandma and Grandpa got me for Christmas. Baby is in my belly, listening to my voice as I occasionally call to Michael across the kitchen to remind him that I love him.

We are in week 15 of pregnancy, baby and I. The first week that baby can hear my voice. My book tells me my baby is four inches tall from crown to rump, my new favorite unit of measurement.

I took my first positive pregnancy test on our 6 month wedding anniversary. The “pregnant” line was just barely showing. Michael still teases me that there was no line at all. But I knew. I knew you were in there.

By Monday, the next day, there was no refuting my positive test. I was ecstatic. I waited 5 more days to tell Daddy.

It was just us for the first week. I went for a run one evening and watched the sunset. I felt giddy thinking about my big secret. Normally, I am a very bad secret keeper. Michael has figured out his birthday and Christmas gifts prematurely almost every year since 2015. But this felt so different. You felt so different.

I think I will always remember that week. I took a pregnancy test every morning, and I thought about you, growing in my belly, all day long.

I am pregnant. I could not be happier. Baby will be here in my arms in June. Michael and I cannot wait to meet you. We love you.



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