a year ago today. It was President's Day, and I took the test first thing, expecting a negative and to be able to booze it up that evening (drink of choice: Malibu and cherry coke zero).
I spent the day filled with glee -- unsure that it could be really real, after trying for so many months. I cooked a lot that day -- had already planned to use my federal holiday to make dinners for the rest of the week and to watch reruns of House.
The morning sickness hadn't set in (that would start around Mardi Gras, which weirdly is today this year), so I was feeling fine.
But nothing, nothing, nothing compares to the way I feel when I get to hold my baby. Waking up with her, going to sleep with her in her crib next to our bed, feeding her, even changing her diapers. It's all the best to me -- even when it's not.
And I wish the other "stuff" -- my doubts and insecurities and second guesses about what I "should" do -- would just melt away.