A fresh pair of eyes.

I arrived home from work one day and took a pregnancy test.
I am not pregnant. I know I'm not. I said it over and over in my head. I shook from head to toe and sat staring at the positive sign on the stick for a whole five minutes before I was able to emerge and tell Jason.
I'm pregnant. We are going to have a baby.
I cried. He said it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it will be okay.
I thought about this creature, this parasite, the source of my insatiable fatigue and constant nausea. I wondered how I would feel without it-- this second heart beating inside of me. Better than fine! I told myself stubbornly. You are not ready to have a baby. This baby shouldn't belong to you.
The next day I carried my secret like a dead weight. I felt it bursting from me. Fear, for myself and my health. Guilt, at my lack of gratitude. At any moment I felt I would explode and reveal everything, hoping to share the shock I felt with someone, anyone who would understand the complexity of my feelings.
Two nights later I had a terrible dream. In my dream, a tiny fetus opened its mouth wide and screamed.
I woke, my heart pounding, my mind racing. My baby! This is our baby-- mine and Jason's. It came to us, it needs us. Fear incited my more natural maternal instincts and for the first time since I knew of its existence, I wanted this creature, longed for it. And a confused Jason hugged me as I cried for fear of losing my little parasite.

We saw our baby for the first time when it was only nine weeks old and two centimeters long. On the ultrasound it kicked its legs and stretched its minuscule arms above its tiny head. Water ballet. An alien creature with a strong, healthy heartbeat.
It's real, and it's happening to us.
A miracle.
Things that are good and right have a way of timing themselves. Our plans for ourselves are often very different than what our actual future unfolds.
I feel peace and comfort in my burden. Excitement and anxiety at what it entails. Joy that I see reflected in my  husband's face when we see our baby. Comfort in the knowledge that I was never alone, and now I physically never am.
Now never seemed like a good time for us to have a baby, but it was always right.