Be still my heart.

Sometime in the few months following my emergency hysterectomy, I woke up one morning and realized that I would never again be a mother. A new mother, I mean. Of course, I knew that already (I'm not THAT slow), but the total mental and emotional adjustment of it hit me like a ton of wet diapers.

I mourned the loss of my womb.

So, I planted a seed. I mentioned adoption a few times to my husband, who said "Nah, I'm good." And "Our family feels complete already," and "Do we really want to start over? I don't think so."

And then something amazing happened. My friend Rhonda adopted a son. He was born on my birthday. He is amazing and wonderful. "Good for them," he said.

And then something miraculous happened. My friend Jamie adopted a son - with about two weeks notice - and she wasn't even planning to adopt another baby. My husband went to visit them and deliver some gifts and met this tiny tot. And his heart smiled.

A few days ago around the supper table, my husband, in casual everyday conversation, like we were discussing the weather said, "Maybe in a few years we can consider adopting. Wouldn't it be something to have another baby to love?"

I nearly needed emergency medical assistance. I half choked, half spit out my bite. "Are you kidding me?" I asked. "You can't play with me like that." He smiled and said, "It's not a bad idea, right?"

O.M.G.

He followed this statement by saying that also in a few years, PRIOR to considering this option, he wanted to move to a bigger, nicer, newer home than we have now. This, from the man who announced to the world that he would NEVER.MOVE.AGAIN.

Who has kidnapped my husband and replaced him with this newer, more adventurous model? Whoever did, please keep him. I am LOVING this upgrade.