Right about this time 12 years ago, my feet were really beginning to swell. I was spending the hottest summer on record in Germany – a country that had just begun to discover the need for central air-conditioning – and I had been sentenced to bed rest.
Right about this time 11 years, 364 days ago, I was lying looking at the latest ultrasound of a fetus that was already late emigrating from my womb. “He's all leg's,” the doctor would exclaim in thickly-accented English – it was the only English she had used with me in almost 3 months.
Right about this time 11 years, 363 days ago, I was trying to quell the urge for more blueberry pastry as I worried I would give birth to a bouncing baby blueberry in a few days.
Right about this time 11 years, 362 days ago, I was just beginning to huff and puff and waddle back and forth between tub and bed as I impatiently waited to join the oldest club in the history of womanhood.
Right about this time 11 years, 361 days ago, the doctor told me we weren't doing well, and we would need to complete this process surgically. I was scared and exhausted and wanted nothing more than to be holding a baby, and my husband and I gave our consent.
But right about this time 11 years, 361 days and 5 hours ago, two new people were born. The first came out of a womb and, in doing so, he created a new person – he created me. He created a person who started to learn the true meaning of patience. He replaced a person who had failed almost every test in life with someone who was willing to persevere indefinitely for someone's sake other than her own. He created a person who suddenly, blissfully belonged completely to someone else. And, as he began to challenge me with unprecedented exhaustion and unanticipated hurdles, 11 years, 361 days, and 4 hours ago, he helped me start the most important journey of my life. And, almost twelve years later to the day, I still give thanks everday for the gift of having him in my life.
Sentimental journeys are just that. This was a pleasant one indeed.