It's such a simple sentence, but writing it feels to me both exhilerating and scary, much like my hesitant jumps off the high dive when I was ten.
You see, the link between pregnancy and having a baby has been severed in my experience, and I am still finding it difficult to reestablish the connection. Telling the world is one way to choose to celebrate this life, to rejoice in this child who is right now very much alive, making her presence known with gentle flips and kicks while I write. I battle fear of losing this baby every day, probably will until she is safely in my arms, but I don't want to be consumed by that fear.
So I'm telling you all: I am pregnant, twenty weeks. It's another little girl. We are delighted and terrified, grateful and hopeful.