We had our first OB appointment earlier this month, and my physician was happy to see us again. I have to admit, I was grateful that we were there to see her for a positive result and not to have a conversation about how far we were willing to go since we appeared to be having "problems".
I don't really know why I ever worried about that. As Jason tells me, I borrow problems from tomorrow to worry about today. But, I'm a worrier, so it's no trouble. As it turns out, both times, we appear to be freakishly fertile and I don't really know how we managed the first eight years of our marriage without an "Oooops!"
But here we are, freakish fertiles, glad to know after my OB appointment that our freakishness does not extend to multiples. There is only one yolk sack and only one heartbeat. As I lay there looking at what God has given us yet again, I remembered something I had said to Jason a week or two before when the stick turned pink. It was harder this time. With Baby Girl, if we had lost the pregnancy, I knew that I'd just go on and we'd figure it out. This time, I realized it would be so much harder because I would understand what I was losing.
But, the OB saw a heartbeat and, for not quite 7 weeks, that apparently is a good sign, indeed. So, Little Baby, keep growing. We're making you a place.