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I’m thrilled to say that we survived our first week of this deployment (and a little bit more, too)! It’s gone by quickly and dragged by oh so slowly, and I imagine that is much like how the rest of the year will pass. And that’s okay. Like everything else, this is our life. Good and bad, it’s still more good than bad. And, hey, I can’t be upset about that 🙂

Last week, SamBaby and I turned over the keys to our home, packed up the car, and headed to Sweet Home Alabama. It took way too many hours (16, plus an overnight stop, to be exact), but I’m kind of proud to say that I drove from the middle of Texas to southeast Alabama with only a one year old to keep me company. Although, not so proud that I particularly want to do it again haha.

But none of these things are the real reason for this post. I want to reminisce a little about today’s date.

January 20th.

Never in my life, did I expect this day to hold such significance. Provided that it did not represent a birthday or anniversary, what other things could be so special that it would truly continue to stand out in my mind three years in a row? And how is it, that each year something small, yet so big, continues to happen on this particular date?

In 2012, we found out we were pregnant with sweet baby Eli. It was such a wonderful shock. I’d come off birth control late in 2011 with zero expectations that I’d ever be able to conceive, and, honestly, I was okay with that. I didn’t want to assume that I’d have perfectly normal fertility, or get my hopes up month after month that I might actually be pregnant. I remember coming home from work shortly after lunch with the slightest hunch that I might be pregnant (duh, why else would I take a pregnancy test?). It could have only been more surprising to me if I’d still been on birth control.

It was so hard not to call P right that moment with the big news. I walked down to his office multiple times that afternoon to see how late he might be, to get myself away from the full box of positive pregnancy tests (one is never enough), to keep myself from calling every person I knew. I’ll never forget the look of confusion on P’s when I finally handed him a positive pregnant test (which he thought was a magic marker at first) and a baby outfit we bought together months earlier (the one that Baby Potato ended up wearing home from the hospital. Oh, melt my little heart), quickly followed by sheer joy and awe.

We celebrated at our favorite beef-and-leaf joint, where we proceeded to pantomime our news to every Korean person in the restaurant (don’t worry it was only the owners and one other family haha). The owner gave us a bottle of Coca-cola to celebrate, and we actually still have to the bottle (P hand carried it from Korea even, and refused to let it be shipped when we moved to Fort Hood).

That day has so so many happy memories for me. I felt such an innocent and pure joy, untouched by fear or worry, when I learned I would one day be a mother.

I sit here, watching my little guy sleep, and I know I’d never take back what happened to us. Not only for the obvious. For one, I don’t think I could ever give Sam back, even if it meant taking away the pain we experienced. The real reason I wouldn’t change our history is, quite frankly, rather selfish: I get to love two babies when I might otherwise have only been able to love one. In the course of one year, I carried two children within my womb, and it was amazing and scary and everything in between and then some. Not everyone is blessed in such a manner. I just don’t think I could give up my happy memories just to rid myself of the painful ones.

January 20th, 2013 and 2014 are by far less exciting than this day was in 2012, by still memorable nonetheless. Last year, on January 20th, I introduced my son to his grandparents and the USofA. And, today, I joined a running club. Those of you who know me, know that I hate running. Seriously, the only thing I hate more than running is mustard. And mayo. But somehow, P managed to talk me into training for a marathon “with” him while he’s gone. Yeah, you read that right. I’m pretty sure I’ve lost it, but hey, go big or go home, right?

Oh, and, this just in, apparently, I started this blog on January 20th, 2011. So, see: special day in the A&P world.

Thanks for letting me walk down memory lane. It’s nice to remember the happy times.

Drive fast and take chances, my friends, this mama is heading to bed.