“I’m sure the dinosaur has other friends,” I told my wife months ago as I found myself once again sitting beside my bawling wife in a movie theater parking lot. We had just seen the blockbuster Jurassic World, and Sera was sobbing about the velociraptor who apparently did not have any friends left following the final battle sequence. While there were certainly other criers at the movie theater that day, I don’t believe anyone else was crying for the same reason that Sera expressed.

Lately, at times the tears seem unending. Our recent trip to the cabin brought many tears — she cried whenever a bug hit the windshield. “It might have been on its way to its family!” she blubbered. I should point out that these are not always sad tears. A few weeks ago Sera said she wanted pancakes for breakfast and cried the next morning when I made them for her. Then there was the time I let Beesly, our dog, outside. I still don’t get why that common activity turned on the waterworks.

I’ve grown used to the tears in the past few months — one of the many side effects of pregnancy my wonderful wife has been experiencing so far. Yes, we’re expecting a baby early next year, and Sera wanted to make sure all of you knew that any behavior I’ve written about in the past few weeks where she’s been portrayed as a bit more ridiculous than normal is to be blamed solely on the pregnancy. I’m not sure I can vouch for that statement, but I guess there’s no sure way of knowing if it’s her or the baby.

After months of negative pregnancy tests, Sera didn’t seem too optimistic this May when she handed me the test to view the results. When I saw the test was positive, she didn’t believe I was serious. After a brief moment of doubting my ability to read the test, I confidently reiterated my claim and I saw the first of the pregnancy tears stream down Sera’s face.

It was Pentecost Sunday, a time when the Christian church celebrates the Holy Spirit descending upon the early church. Several discouraging months following our miscarriage, and perhaps more than ever, it felt like the Holy Spirit had descended upon us. At church that morning the choir sang a unique version of the popular hymn, “O Day Full of Grace.” It included a verse I hadn’t heard before: “God came to us then at Pentecost, His Spirit new life revealing, That we might no more from Him be lost, All darkness for us dispelling. His flame will the mark of sin efface and bring to us all His healing.” It was obviously not written about Sera and I’s circumstance, but the parallels in the lyrics of new life being revealed, a darkness being dispelled and healing to what my wife and I experienced just earlier that morning were powerful.

I wrote last week how year two is better than year one in marriage (at least ours). The second year of marriage proved to bring us closer together than we could have ever imagined at the start of it, and now year three is presenting us with a child, something entirely life-changing. With it comes happiness, worry, joy, fear and yes, tears.

Three is better than two, at least that’s what we’re telling ourselves right now. There’s no dirty diapers and no crying baby yet, but we’re confident that the challenges ahead will lead to rewards completely incomprehensible at this point in our lives — rewards that will make the several weeks of nausea Sera’s experienced seem more acceptable.

I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge there is a bittersweetness knowing how fortunate we have been to make it this far in the pregnancy where others have experienced great loss. The tears from our first pregnancy haven’t yet dried, but the uplifting words we’ve received from others struggling with pregnancy have encouraged us to share what at times we’ve felt like holding back.

Sera’s tears for the “lonely” velociraptor still come weeks later when I remind her of the film, and I expect many more instances of crying will occur as she grows our family from a duo into a trio. (In fact, two more occurred while writing this column.) We hope you enjoy this journey with us, as I’m sure there will be a few more pregnancy-related things I tell my wife.

 

Rochester resident Matt Knutson is the communications and events director for United Way of Olmsted County.