Eight years ago today, I married Eli Schleifer. I was 25 and in my first year of graduate school, and we’d just moved to Cambridge. The first snow of the season fell the night before the wedding, but by morning the temps had reached the mid-70s, so we moved the ceremony outdoors and set up the chuppah facing the ocean. There was French toast, and bluegrass, and baskets filled with pomegranates, and several ladybugs that found their way into my veil.
We weren't sure back then that we wanted to be parents. Then all of the sudden, we were very sure, but I got sick, and we didn't know if we could be. And now, here we are. Here we are! With one Mia, and one tiny human-in-the-making, whose flips and flutters I’m just beginning to feel. Yep. I’m pregnant. And so happy, finally, to share this news with you. (It was a loooong first trimester. Though, damn, powdered macaroni and cheese never tasted so good.) We’re due sometime around April 1.
I was much sicker for much longer with this pregnancy – hence the silence here – but I’m happy to report that things are better now. It’s 8:43pm and I am conscious! I’m cooking again, and writing. I’m even eating the occasional green vegetable. Goooooo, second trimester!
We celebrated an important birthday here in the months since I last wrote, and there was cake. Back soon to tell you about it.
xo.