twenty weeks | two doves

(all pictures taken by my dear Mary Claire Roman)

Sixteen weeks to twenty weeks were some of the toughest. With a scare involving a lot of blood and cramping taking us to the ER being one of the biggest reasons for that. Our sweet girl checked out just fine, and what the doctors found was far from serious, but the feeling I felt that night may haunt me forever. Thankfully, my mama was in town through it all to help me keep it together. Two days after my parents left, my sweetest friends drove up to spend time with us, and though I had a nasty cough the whole time, having them in our home always brings such joy. Even if it's only for a couple days.

After the busyness had died down, I found myself steaming in a warm bath feeling sick and sorry for myself. Exhausted from the past few weeks. Trying my darnest to steam the congestion away. My hands on my belly that now extends beyond the surface of the water, feeling tiny inconsistent jabs from the love that is growing inside of me - and I am brought back to last October.

It was month twelve, and I had yet another test with one pesky pink line staring back at me. Again. This time it was different though - month twelve meant the doctors would actually take a look at me and give me some answers, some help. I made the phone call to womens' health. Excited, relieved, and mostly scared.  The lady who answered was kind and listened to what I had to say, but then quickly turned me down, and told me I had to go through several steps in order to be seen by them. Steps I had already taken. Ones that would take time, probably months. I was over waiting. Defeated, I hung up and sobbed my way through my morning workout. I wanted to be a mother - desperately. And in that very moment, that desire seemed impossibly out of reach.

Through the window that stands between my living room and backyard, I felt eyes on me. On the porch awning sat two doves nonchalantly looking in at me. Call it a sign, a coincidence, a bird, what have you - I knew then that things were going to be okay.

27 days later, we found out about our daughter.

Fast forward to now. Halfway through this miraculous journey - I am reminded that feeling sorry for myself is unnecessary. With a babe as healthy as can be, the ability to create a family at all, and a husband who loves us both ferociously; I am the luckiest woman in the world. All of the weight that comes with the discomfort, fear, and anxiety of pregnancy is a weight that I am willing to carry. For her. My dove.