8 Weeks

The photo on the left was taken April 13th, when I was 13 weeks 2 days pregnant. It's been my Facebook profile photo since then so if we're Facebook friends you've probably seen it. The photo on the right was taken last Monday on June 13th, when I was 22 weeks along.


Both were taken in the upstairs landing of our house, in a big mirror propped against the wall (our bedroom doors are closed behind us). I was wearing the same tank top and yoga capris in both photos. The biggest difference between the two is that in the one on the left, I'm about to drive Jason to the airport to fly far away for work, and in the one on the right, he'd only recently come home. He was gone for 8 weeks (and two days, but who's counting?) (I was totally counting.).

I didn't post online that he was gone because a) I'm pregnant and paranoid cautious, b) it's not too hard to find out where I live, c) I watch too many crime & forensics shows, d) I have a very active imagination, e) all of the above.

But I'm very [very very very very very] happy to have him home now; absence makes the heart grow fonder may be cliche but it's really so true. I keep wanting to post things about how glad I am that he's back and experiencing this pregnancy with me, so I figured I should explain that he was gone. :)

The opportunity for Jason to work on this big project overseas came up at the end of last year, and for several reasons we decided that he should take it. My biggest worry about him being gone was that we'd miss two cycles for trying to conceive; I joked that he could go if he got me pregnant before he left. He kept his end of that bargain, so I had to keep mine. :)

All in all, 8 weeks apart wasn't too bad. I'm a pretty independent person anyway, so the first week he was gone just felt like vacation--cereal for dinner! laundry just once a week! the whole bed to myself! the kitchen counter stays clean! The second week was the hardest; one morning I woke up and realized that I hadn't had any physical contact with anyone for nine days, and I just cried and cried, practically aching from touch deprivation. And then I put on my big girl panties and booked myself a 90-minute prenatal massage, guilt-free.

Luckily, Jason and I were able to video-chat nearly every day and we talked on the phone most of the days we couldn't video. I kept myself so busy (with my artist workshop, visiting friends, and prepping for and attending jewelry shows) that the time flew by and I didn't even get to tackle the home projects I wanted to work on while he was gone. He used to be military, so it's not like we haven't done this before (for much, much longer). And we've been married for 11 years now (and best friends for 13), so our communication skills are pretty darn good; we've worked hard at it and I'm proud of where + how + who we are together. That helped a lot.

He had a great fine time, got some great experience, met some great people (and a couple dirtbags), and he's glad to be back. Since he's been home Bebe Girl has started moving like crazy. He felt her move last week (while we were watching My Cousin Vinny of all things) and then yesterday he saw her move, from across the room--she was kicking and one part of my belly kept bulging out. WILD. Awesome. Amazing. Beautiful.

I'm so glad he's home.