Those of who you regularly read my blog know that my pregnancy experience was less than perfect. I’ve never imagined pregnancy to be “the best time in my life,” as some of my friends and acquaintances describe it, but I hoped it would not be the worst.
In some ways, it was the worst.
In other ways, it wasn’t so bad. I watched my husband grow into even more of a man, a leader, and a compassionate lover than he was before–and he was already practically perfect in every way (step aside, Mary Poppins). I learned to adjust my personal timetable and tastes and to yield to the ticking time bomb growing inside me, concerning myself primarily with her best interests. I discovered goldmines of gratitude in little daily kindnesses from…
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