I realized this weekend that it was three years ago, minus a few days, that Chris and I learned that we were going to be parents. Madeline wasn't unexpected, but we were surprised nonetheless. I hadn't started this blog yet. I was relieved to have a legitimate reason for only having enough energy to collapse on the sofa after work, and to beg off our Saturday afternoon curling lessons (because everyone knows that running down a sheet of ice with a broom is a brilliant first trimester fitness activity, right?).
Madeline was a secret that only the two of us shared for roughly three months, which doesn't seem like a very long time now, but at the time is seemed to go on forever. We were positive that our secret would be discovered over Christmas when I suddenly drank cranberry juice instead of wine with my dinner at my in-law's home, and there was a tense moment at my parents' house when my grandmother patted my tummy and asked me when we were going to have kids. For the entire duration of Christmas dinner, I was convinced that my little grandma had developed superpowers!
Madeline was also a secret from us, in a way. We didn't know if she was a she or he. Didn't know if she had the correct number of limbs. All that we had to go on was the sound of her little heartbeat amplified through the doppler. I used to refer to her as "The Olive" or "The Grapefruit" in reference to her approximate in-utero size.
Three years have passed, and looking back, I think it's really amazing how easy it was to care about someone whom we hadn't yet met.