This weekend we're traveling to our niece's high school graduation. We're so enormously proud of her, and looking forward to time with the husband's family. Good stuff.
Except that this is the weekend we would have passed into the second trimester. When we got the positive test, I (naturally) googled my potential due date, and saw that the big It's Probably Safe To Tell People Now date was this weekend. I remember thinking what perfect timing it was, that we could tell Husband's family in person when we saw them at the graduation.
Sometimes I forget I was pregnant. Or, sort of pregnant. The nurse called back about my "why don't I want to have sex?" inquiry, and told me to take it easy on myself, that my body had been through a lot. "You had all the hormones we gave you," she said, "and then pregnancy hormones," and I almost interrupted her until I realized - hey, yeah, that's right, I WAS pregnant for awhile, wasn't I?
You'd think this would be a hard thing to forget. It's like a dream sometimes. Or a nightmare, I suppose.
Anyway. It'll be a good weekend. I'm looking forward to it. But I'm also bringing one of those travel-sized kleenex packs with me. Just in case.