Valentine's Day 2004 I sent my husband off to war. Five-months pregnant, crying kids in tow, I waddled my way to my seemingly empty car, trying to pick up the rattled pieces of my heart the Army just put on a plane, still feeling his embrace and breath on my skin.
How was I ever to do this alone? What if he couldn't get back in time to see our child's birth?
I was stricken with anger, pain, and so much more as I barreled along in my pregnancy, almost drunk with fear, not really connecting as I should've with the baby in my belly, too filled with worry for my husband's safety most of the time, despite receiving as much as contact as I was going to get.
I was beyond fortunate to get a 3D ultrasound to send him the images of our child's gorgeous face (sex unknown at the time), because he was missing out on all of it and every opportunity I had to involve him in the pregnancy, I took. Looking back, though, I think it's what kept me involved in it, too. Funny thing to think about, how the pregnancy was happening to me yet I was almost so 'third-person' about it, because there was this war going on, and I was just so wrapped up in whether or not I'd be a widowed mother, instead of rejoicing in this blessing blooming in my body.
We were oh so fortunate for him to get his leave when the baby was due.
We were so thankful the baby held out as long as he did.
We were grateful they scheduled us to induce so he could be there for the birth.
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