Pregnancy blew by. Before I knew it, we were married. It was very important to me that I get to change my last name from my ex’s and that we have the same last name on our daughter’s birth certificate.
Thanksgiving came and went. I had just started monitoring my blood sugar. I definitely had gestational diabetes, but I’m so grateful, my body responded very well to a healthy, low carb (honestly, nearly no carb) diet.
I made a dietary exception for one day and enjoyed Christmas treats.
January was a blink.
It was Valentine’s Day. That morning was the last morning I really had to myself. My husband left for work, like usual. It was very early. Usually, I would text him, “Good morning,” as soon as I woke up, around 8, to see how his morning was getting started. Some instinct in me guided me to wait. I got up, used the bathroom, and ate breakfast before I texted him.
We have an older friend, a friendly woman who my husband met through work. She’s got a sharp sense of humor, a big heart, and a past with which my husband and I both find a resonance. She doesn’t have any family and has moved to our town which is far away from her few friends; we are very much all she has apart from her cat and little dog. My husband is closer friends with her than I am. He visits with her every day.
The morning of Valentine’s day, he didn’t hear from her. When I sent my, “good morning, how’s it going,” to my husband, he let me know he hadn’t heard from her, that he was worried about her, and was debating whether or not to leave work to check on her.
I decided I didn’t want him to leave work, that it probably wasn’t a big deal, so I told him I would go.