In the summer of 2014, my husband R and I moved from California (after about a year) to the great state of Georgia for his new job. At the time of the move, I was just about 9 months pregnant with our son. I was no longer allowed to fly so we had to drive cross-country in our Subaru Forester…with our two cats. Honestly, it wasn’t as bad of a trip as you might think.
I was the happiest a person could be.
Pregnancy was overall a pleasant experience for me. At the time, I was the happiest a person could be. Pregnancy brought so much joy to my life – emotionally speaking. I felt a wave of happiness come over me that just stayed with me for the full 9 months despite being on temporary bed rest (due to placenta previa) and being uncontrollably itchy (due to a new condition that sprung up while pregnant: urticaria) and covered in hives.
After arriving in Georgia, we began a 14 day quest to find a home to buy. It was hot, like all southern summers, and our real estate agent was worried I’d give birth in one of her houses. I looked at around 25 houses before we settled on our first home. It was a two story traditional in a small subdivision outside of Atlanta.
Shortly after finding that home, I awoke in the very early hours of the morning to find blood on my sheets. Cue the emergency trip to the hospital. I wasn’t planning on meeting my son for another month so I didn’t have an obstetrician picked out or even a pediatrician. I had not stepped one foot in that hospital until I was being led through a lobby in the early morning hours worried if my baby was okay. My water broke while I was waiting at the hospital and my labor was induced. About 36 hours later, my son was born. He was born in the summer of 2014. He’s a Leo; a ball of energy and excitement that craved all of our attention. While resting up in the hospital waiting to go home, we signed the offer letter for our new home. It was an exciting few days to say the least.