March 7.

The cover picture was taken eight days before we knew there was a tiny baby in my belly. We had family pictures taken this day, and didn't even know the newest member was already being included.

A year ago today I found out I was pregnant. I'd spent the past two weeks inhaling pesto, and spent the majority of my birthday week eating as much peanut butter chocolate ice cream as I could, thinking my stomach had inflated just for birthday celebrations. My family came into town that weekend, and my nose was working spectacularly well (the cats were having bathroom issues, and I could always smell it way before Brandon could). That Sunday night, I remember just crying about being 25. I tried to explain to Brandon, "all your life, you think you're going to be one person, and then next thing you know, you just aren't. you're a whole different person than you thought you'd be, but you're still a person, and it's just crazy how at some point in your life you just are that person and you will be forever." And then I flopped on the bed and cried, and I'm pretty sure Brandon wanted to, too. Because even though you spend your whole life being a person who is a person, no person wants a crazy person for their wife haha. 

But I laid on the bed for a minute, then sat next to Brandon and said "maybe I'm pregnant." So the next afternoon, I stopped at Walmart on my way home for some groceries, and picked up a pregnancy test, sure that it would be negative. Rushed home, did my thing, then before I could pick it up to look at the results, Brandon walked in. I used my foot to push the test right next to the counter where he couldn't see it. We had been trying for a while, and I didn't want him to think I was nuts for taking yet another pregnancy test when we figured nothing was happening. He kept walking in and out of the bathroom, going into the closet to change, then coming back to talk to me while I sat on the edge of the tub. While he was changing his shirt, I dove down and checked the test.

Positive. I was pregnant. 

He walked out of the closet and into the bathroom, and I was just kneeling on the floor with my mouth wide open. I told him I was pregnant, then started bawling. I was so happy, and he was in shock. He gave me the biggest hug, and then the two of us sat on the floor together, overjoyed to the point of speechless.

My friends were the first ones to know; I told them about an hour later at dinner, because I couldn't tell anyone else. I told them while we were in line at Zupas, I couldn't even wait until we sat down. We went to that same Zupas for the first time a couple weeks ago, and it was harder than I thought it would be.

I've wanted to just skip the entire month of March. I didn't want to remember all the symptoms I overlooked, or the feelings I felt when we found out, or the days when we told our families. But I can't. The minute we found out I was pregnant, our little family had grown by one, and our love had grown infinitely more. March 7th seems like more a cause for celebration than sadness, but I think it will always be a day laced with both.

I sure do miss you, Carter boy.