I'm frustrated with pregnancy--or rather, the lack of it. Having a miscarriage is terrible for many reasons, one of which is that it completely threw off my "plan." (Christy and I have talked about how ridiculous it is to try to plan things like children or, you know, the future. Christy had a plan and then her husband got cancer and they had to do IVF to get pregnant again. I had a plan and then lost the baby when I was so close to the safe 2nd trimester. So basically, it's hilarious to think that we have any control in these things.)
I always wanted my kids to be 2 years apart. My sisters and I are spaced that way and it's awesome. We were close enough to be best friends and interested in the same things at the same times. We could share clothes and go to school together. It must have been tricky for Mom when we were tiny, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make so that Ruby and her siblings could be close in age. I timed my 2nd pregnancy perfectly--until I wasn't pregnant anymore. And now, Ruby is fully 2. It's too late. Her closest sibling will be closer to 3 years younger than her, assuming I get pregnant anytime soon. (Why is this taking so long?) It's hard to accept that my plan has officially failed, but I'm trying to get over it. Whatever is supposed to happen, will happen. But it sucks to wait.
I was pretty bummed on the baby's due date in August. Luckily, Ruby was especially cute and sweet that day, as if she knew she had to cheer me up.