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Being pregnant is such a dreamy time. You dream of the little person inside of you. Is there a boy in there, or a girl? What will he or she look like? Will she be calm, easygoing, someone who goes with the flow? Or more will he be demanding, someone who needs your attention and needs it now? Will he be like his siblings? Or the total opposite? What traits of mine will this little person have? What traits from my husband? 

Photo credit: Sara Eden Photography

   Every morning, when I wake up, the first thing I see is this gorgeous wedding picture of Jon and I. It hangs on the wall of our bedroom. It’s a simple pose and picture, one that most brides and grooms probably have. In it, we’re looking straight at the camera, smiling. It’s a full body shot but it’s relatively close up, so you can see my dress in all it’s glory. We got married in the fall, so in the background there are brightly colored leaves on the trees and you can tell the sun is about to set, off somewhere in the distance.  Over the years I’ve grown to love this picture even more that I originally did, but not for the reasons you might think. Yes, we look wonderful in it, but that’s to be expected. It was a perfect day: we were so happy, in love, and we were dressed and made up to nines.  But now I look at that picture and I see two people who had no idea, on that day, how much love and life was ahead of them. The girl in that picture couldn’t have dreamed that, less than five years later, she’d be here. Here in her dream house, with the amazing husband, a two and a half year old angel of a daughter and another on the way. Here is so much better than anything I could have dreamed up.  And this baby inside me is the same thing. I know he or she is more–more adorable, more loveable, just more — than anything I could possibly dream. 

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