We had just traveled three continents in 24 hours, we were exhausted, jet lagged, and all the feelings that came with being back home was just a little overwhelming.

Coupled with the fact that it was our anniversary? Blissful.

We arrived at my parents on the 7th of May (paper anniversary), and on May 8th (actual anniversary) ((long story)) we did normal Galena things, however on the way into town from my parents, you travel through some farm fields along the road that takes you into town. Normal enough, but I smelled the rancid smell of manure from what felt like two miles away.

I asked my mom if she smelled it. She said no, but then again, it’s not an uncommon smell in that part of Illinois in that season. The morning of the 9th of May, I trusted that I had indulged in too much McDonald’s and Culver’s in the day I had been back in America and that my upset stomach was due to said food overload and traveling.

However, in the afternoon, I sat at my parents dining table in their open concept main floor, and my dad opened the fridge and pulled out some celery to snack on (he makes much better snacking choices than myself), and the smell was so overwhelming it made me feel light headed.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I have missed celery for the past year. So many soups and mirepoix recipes I looked over because of the missing ingredient. Sometimes all I want is peanut butter on a celery log with raisins like the old days. And living in Togo? Well those days are definitely long gone.

I went downstairs to take a nap, but went to the bathroom first, and then waited some minutes before falling asleep.

Long story short, I couldn’t sleep, because in those minutes, I saw two pink lines.

Many selfish thoughts ran through my head, like “oh sh*t” being the main one. It had a lot of different tones and emotions so take it how you will. How will I tell H? I WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE A HOT GIRL SUMMER! OMG I had champagne on the flight!

And then we went to dinner and everything just seemed unappetizing to me. Probably my nerves.

I told H that night, and we kept the good secret for a good long while.

We would talk in private about everything, made bets about hair color, eyes, and the like. It’s more so a spectrum of lighter brown hair like mine? Or chocolate brown hair like his? Lighter green eyes like his? Or darker hazel eyes like mine? I mean, all a crap shoot because our families have brown eyes (my dad has blue), and really, like who’s genes will be stronger?

And just like that within what felt like days, I was exhausted, worn out, not nauseated yet. But then again, I found out very very early at 3.5 weeks.

A week or two later? Cue the feeling of morning sickness.

Not so much the actual act, but the feeling was enough to wipe me out.

I decided that I didn’t want to tell anyone until the 12 week mark, so it was a lot of mindful breathing in the backseat as my parents were driving and no private toilet in sight. I felt like I could only play off food poisoning and travel tummy for so long.

And yet, those weeks flew by.

H came back to the US for a short time, and I cannot sing his praises enough. There were mornings where I would have to heave, and he’d blast the shower, sink, play music, and talk to me at a louder volume to keep my charade going. He was (and still is) incredibly patient and let me nap, or come with to the store to get an absurd craving like cosmic brownies, or diligently check labels or ask restaurant staff if my beloved obsession with soft cheese was pasteurized.

He virtually attended the first appointment, and was able to attend the 12week appointment. I think seeing his reactions and excitement fill me up with more joy every day.

He is the hero in my narrative, always.

But as the weeks wore on, and once I returned back to Togo at 15 weeks, I felt much better. I was back with him, back with my pets, navigating the new “normal”.

We told our families and began the seemingly never ending baby registry dash.

I left the box on the left at my parents, and sent the box on the right to his mom.

I gave H the actual photos to take back to Togo, but took a photo of the sonogram on my phone, in the upload process to print, I accidentally cropped my name. So my parents thought it was a joke because they could only see the Ultrasound Tech’s name on the photo! 😀

Needless to say they know we’re not joking, but it took a little reassurance.

It should all be roses and bliss right?

I will not lie and say that mentally it has been easy.

I thought I was supposed to struggle. I didn’t. I thought I would have a natural and immediate bond. I didn’t. I’ll be honest and say this isn’t my most favorite thing I’ve ever gone through. My body isn’t my own anymore. Where’s the beautiful hair and skin? Why all these pills? Why can’t I stop gagging when I brush my teeth? And forget the whole clothes thing.

Now that I’m 23weeks, some of those feelings have dissipated.

This petite wiggly little baby really knocks me off my rocker most days.

And other days all I do is dream of life and what it’ll look like, with….

Her.

This is about to be one blessed baby.

She will have a passport before we ever did. She will transit and live on three different continents before her first birthday. She has loving (and scared) parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and all the like. She has two adoring pets; one who I know can already tell will be a great big brother, the other….likely will need some adjusting.

Trust me, I cornered them both and played newborn noises….I’ll let you decide which pet needed a smoke after.

And with each passing day, we’re one day closer.

Insert freaking out and simultaneously being excited here***

I wish I had more words, but these days I’m left mostly speechless. In a good way. I’ll still continue with my random assortment of content, but definitely will include a lot of nomad baby thoughts and purchases for this weird lifestyle we’re living. It’s a process!

And with all of this rambling, we begin this new and likely greatest adventure yet.

Our nest is growing by one more.

Carrie