In August of 2012, I attended the Louisville Stake's annual Relief Society meeting. I didn't want to go at all, but I was under orders from my doctor to not turn down invitations to social gatherings, and this counted as one. I grumbled through my first class, and didn't pay much attention to anything. I didn't feel like talking to anyone, so I wandered into a class with nobody I knew and strategically seated myself in the front row. Thankful for the guarantee that I'd sit there alone, I took a deep breath and tried to listen to what the speaker was talking about. She started telling a story from the Old Testament that I'd heard a handful of times, but never really paid any attention to, and I found myself on the edge of my seat from the moment she uttered the name of the story's heroine.
Christopher and I have always had a running dialogue of baby names, knowing that we were likely to only ever have boys. We'd chosen a boy name, and knew, without a doubt, that we'd be using it someday. With eyes full of tears, I texted him. "What about Abigail?" He wrote back, "I love it." Curious. He'd never loved a baby girl name before. Liked, but not loved.
As the tears began to stream down my cheeks, I was suddenly cognizant of the feelings that had begun to swell within me. I knew it was time for us to have another child, and I knew she would be our Abigail.
In January, I signed up to take a boot camp class at the YMCA. I went to the first class, and had to stop in the middle of one of the exercises because I was sure I was about to vomit all over the studio. Embarrassed and somewhat perplexed, I finished out the class, and went home. I told Christopher that I thought I needed to take a pregnancy test. I wasn't willing to admit defeat in bootcamp on the first day! Turns out I was pregnant. A few months of extreme sickness and fatigue followed, and then a brief "honeymoon" period which we used to go on what will probably be our only vacation as a couple for the next decade. Our days in Utah with Sarie and Brian were priceless. Third trimester was riddled with the usual complaints and the knowledge that it would be over soon was the only thing that got me through the weeks that I couldn't walk up or down the stairs without excruciating pain.
The morning we were going to go for an ultrasound to find out whether we were having a boy or a girl, I was willing to face my feelings for the first time. As I showered, I prayed and wept. "Heavenly Father, I know I shouldn't ask for this, but if it's part of thy plan, please, please, please let this baby be a girl. I feel like it's a girl, but I don't know what I'd do if I was wrong."
She was our Abigail.
On September 10, I went to the doctor for my 38 week checkup. The doctor asked me what I wanted to do, because we'd been discussing induction. (I have wicked fast labors, and was afraid of having a baby on the side of the road.) I reminded him that he'd said we could do the induction on Friday (9/13), and he immediately responded, "We can't do that." I felt such a pit in my stomach! Then he said, "I can do tomorrow."
How do you even begin to describe the feeling that fills your heart and mind when you find out you'll be meeting the daughter you've been dreaming about in one day? It's not possible. I felt elated. Excited. Scared. Anxious. Overwhelmed. Peaceful.
Look forward to part 2, coming soon! I have about a zillion birth photos to share.