I remember when I was younger seeing pregnant women and wondering how they could just go about their business in public and not be too embarrassed that their big bellies announced to the world that THEY HAD SEX to get where they were.
If you see me waddling down the street in the next six months, know that it wasn't just PJ and I getting it on that led to where we are. Since my miscarriage we have had dozens of helpers.
Cards, juicy ripe fruit, positive affirmations, vitamins, notes and books left on our doorstep, gifts of foot massages and healing crystals, offers to do my grocery shopping, emails and text messages of love, lifts to places when I was too tired to walk or bike, and from Z's mum, a voucher for three sessions with her chinese doctor.
There was once a time that I saw stepparenting as the more communal act, but now I see how communal an effort pregnancy is too.
