He’s always called me “Myrtle”. Its our running schtick if you will. I call him Vern. He calls me Myrtle. Its goofy. We know. But that’s what we like about it. We aren’t really “Honey” and “Dear” and “Darling” kind of people. We’re silly people.
So around the time we started trying to start a family, I was really really hoping that I would, indeed, be a Myrtle. Yes, being a Myrtle would be great. A Fertile Myrtle. You can imagine that after 2 years, I didn’t feel like much of a Myrtle. In fact, the nickname always felt like a bit of a reminder that I was NOT a Myrtle. I wasn’t offended by it. I never asked him to stop. But it always kinda struck me as odd that that was the name he chose to call me.
Of course, after 2 years we got pregnant. We miscarried. We got pregnant again. We had Reagan. And that was all very well and good.
In the back of my mind, I wondered what would happen next time. What would happen when we decided to try for baby #3? Would it take years? I mean, I could maybe handle one year, but 2 years was a very long time to wait. I know people wait longer. I know that. I don’t think a single one of them would tell me two years isn’t a long time. But still, what’s going to happen?
Reagan is going to be 2 soon. That seems impossible to believe, but I know its true. She’s such a bundle of energy and joy and enthusiasm. She does nothing in her life half-way. If she wants to go somewhere, she runs. If she wants to eat something, she stuffs the WHOLE thing in her mouth. If she wants to talk to you, she grabs your face in her hands. She’s definitely a shake-the-life-outta-every-single-second kind of girl. Embrace life, she says.
So when Hubby mentioned that he thought we should start trying for baby #3, I initially hesitated. I wasn’t sure I was so ready for that. But he reminded me that it took a long time to have Reagan and starting now would be best. Because what if it took another 2 years or more? I couldn’t lie that that question wasn’t in the back of my mind. It was.
So I agreed that we could start trying for #3.
Which is precisely when God decided I should fit my nickname.
Evidently, I am a Fertile Myrtle. Because immediately after “starting to try”, well, we are pregnant.
And I have to tell you that I am in complete and utter shock. I don’t think I made myself clear there: I AM IN COMPLETE AND UTTER SHOCK!!!
As is Hubby. I informed him mid-September that I suspected I was pregnant. He said, “You’re NOT pregnant! That’s ridiculous! Are you going to do this every single month?” And I felt a little silly for about 1 day. It only lasted 1 day because that’s the only amount of time I could stand to put off buying a test. Which came out positive. Which Hubby claimed was defective and demanded I retest. Which I did. Which again showed that I was pregnant.
Say what? Nooooooooooo. That’s just not possible. Babies don’t happen to me unless I beg and beseech God for them. Even then, it takes some prayerful persuasion for Him to say, “Ohhhh...ooooooookay. Here ya go.”
Make no mistake, we are thrilled. THRILLED!!! But also completely surprised. And its hard to be pregnant after you’ve lost a baby. Its hard to keep your hopes up and not always be preparing yourself for another loss. Its hard not to hear the panicky voice in your head that says, “Here we go again!!!!” I suspect many of you know what I am talking about. It wasn’t easy to get past those fears with Reagan. It isn’t any easier to get past them now either.
But we joyfully announce that we are having a baby (sometime mid-May) and we are celebrating every single day we have with this child - which is hopefully many thousands of days. However many, it’s a gift. A beautiful, wonderful, surprise of a gift. Praise the Lord!!!