On Thursday morning, July 3, 1980, my husband Gregg was getting dressed for the day. I was still in bed, having gotten up in the night with our 10-month old son Andrew.  Gregg was telling me what he would be working on that day, when I told him, "I just felt a baby move."

[caption id="attachment_1076" align="aligncenter" width="800" caption="Matthew at 4 months old"]<a href="http://motherhoodstress.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Mattbaby.jpg"><img class="size-full wp-image-1076" title="Mattbaby" src="http://motherhoodstress.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Mattbaby.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="993" /></a>[/caption]

Gregg looked up and saw that I had my hand on my belly.  "You . . what?"

"I just felt a baby move!" I repeated.  He and I just looked at each other. After all the fertility doctors we had seen, in our efforts to get pregnant with our first child, we couldn't believe that a second "miracle" would just happen.

Later that day, I saw my doctor, had a pregnancy test and was told that we were expecting another miracle.

Since I had not had a period since before Andrew was born, we had not idea when our second child was due.  Our favorite doctor did some measuring and calculating and judged that our new little one would arrive around February 1, 1981. Another doctor, in that practice, assured us that the due date would be in December, since I could not possibly have felt movement that early.

Matthew, our precious second son, arrived on February 15, 1981.