You

The day we found out about you we were tanned and just back from Mexico. I wish I could say we anticipated it, but we were both totally surprised. I remember waiting for the "not" to appear in front of "pregnant" on the digital monitor for a while. But the test was definitive.

Truthfully, I was terrified. I think you will only understand when some 28 years from now when you too stare at a stick (or some technological advancement) and see the same results. "I" just became "we" and 2 became 3. It was so fast, not unwanted, just fast.  Too fast to comprehend. 

Your Dad and I went to get lunch and then I took another test. You were still there! That afternoon, we sat on the couch watching insignificant tv when a storm rolled in. It was a big one- like the ones that crack across the Texas plains when it's 85 in the Spring. We don't get those in Colorado, but that night we did. In Texas, I loved them. They were my ocean; The powerful force that helped you remember that something else was in control. That you were just a spectator in the Super Bowl between lightning and thunder. In Colorado, they are alarming. They usually bring hail. But on that May night, I didn't care much. Honestly, it felt like a hellfire and brimstone baptism into motherhood.  With the sky black and purple at 5:15pm, I realized you were, of course, mine, introducing yourself to the world in the way your genetics dictated, with drama and lightning like glitter. 

Here you are my little gummy bear: