I was honestly freaking out at the beginning of this pregnancy because, for the most part, I felt totally fine with very few symptoms. I thought for sure something was wrong. I arrived at the first three appointments full of doubt and bracing myself for bad news, like actually choking back tears while I waited for them to call my name. Luckily I had Drew by my side, and even though he’d never show it, I knew he was also terrified. Each visit put our worries to rest when we saw a healthy baby growing in there. That would give me peace until about a week before the next visit; then I’d start getting nervous again. People will tell you to ‘relax’ and ‘just enjoy pregnancy because it goes by so fast,’ and while this is true, sometimes hearing those words irked me more than anything. I knew the advice came with good intentions, but I worry because I’ve never cared so much about anything in my life. So to remain chill during the early stages, when things are so fragile and unpredictable, seemed impossible. I needed to feel the fear. It was the only way to move through it. As long as I didn’t get stuck in a cycle of doubt and stress myself crazy, I was still moving forward and braving whatever came up, even when it wasn’t pleasant. So here I am, 20 weeks deep and knowing in my heart that everything will be alright, but I’ll always worry to some extent about this little one. He’s the most precious thing I’ve ever come to know, and I’ll do anything to protect him.