This morning I went to the coffee shop and told Helen I was pregnant. I knew she would be thrilled. Helen, a grandmother several times over, absolutely loves babies, especially newborns.
After she squealed in delight, she looked at me kind of funny, then said seriously, “It’s going to be okay, you know.” Not “Congratulations.” Not “You must be so thrilled!” But “It going to be okay.”
I nearly started crying. While it’s been truly wonderful to hear all the words of congratulation and see all the joy on people’s faces, it’s also been a little strange. I'm still trying to adjust to this whole "being pregnant" thing, and the idea of impending motherhood. It feels a little weird to be congratulated on something that I didn’t train for, study for, or in any way try for. So to hear someone immediately reassure me that everything would be okay … well, I needed to hear that. And I love Helen for picking up on that, and for saying it.
I know things will be okay. I’m getting more of an emotional attachment to Scout now, particularly since seeing the ultrasound. I have a weird feeling like I love Scout. It’s a weird feeling because … oh, I don’t know why. How could I not love Scout? It’s a little baby with a little beating heart, and it’s growing inside me. That’s reason enough. Whether or not Scout was planned, truly doesn’t matter.