Almost all of my friends have a child, many have more than one. My sister has a baby, who I was in the hospital room when my niece was born. I babysat little kids since I can remember, for money and sometimes for free. I excel at being organized and convincing people to do what I think is a good idea. Another way of saying, I'm bossy. I knew what I was getting in to when we started trying to get pregnant.
18 months later we had just given our notice to both our employers and our landlord we were moving. And it wasn't a little move. We were moving from our hometown, Sacramento, California to Raleigh, North Carolina. Two days later, I took 3 pregnancy tests, not believing my eyes that it was reading positive. We were elated. Or at least I was on the outside. Inwardly, I was beginning to panic.
Who moves 2,800 miles from their support system when they know they are pregnant? Well, we did. We arrived to Raleigh on June 3 to help start a church. Over the next few months as we prepared for our baby, I planned to get a job that I could go back to after the baby was a few months old. I would balance work and home life with my husband by his schedule being flexible and my employer (who I did not have) would let me work part time. I have a specialized skillset in special education at the state level, I figured I would be a diamond in the rough and certainly the state of North Carolina would hire me. Little did I remember that it is a rare person who hires a pregnant lady.
As we neared our due date of December 31, we had didn't have health insurance.