Winter is a time that means pregnancy to me. To know that this pregnancy should end when trees are budding and grass is green is almost confusing to me. A time of joy, instead of pain or fear. I am not sorry to have this new set of expectations.
As time draws us steadily nearer to C's fifth birthday, I can almost taste how much these years have changed me. I am not the person I was, nor am I the person I have been. I am different again. And I think it is good.