I was too nauseous.
Yep. You heard me right people. For those of you that aren't my facebook friend and don't already know, I went and got myself knocked up again.
My mother keeps telling me that I have to quit saying it was an accident because an accident would imply that we were trying very hard not to have a baby. And she's right. The truth is, I haven't been taking birth control for a long time because they make my migraines worse than they already are. And to avoid giving you too many personal and akward-type details, remember that fantastic tenth anniversary get away that I blogged about back in May? Well apparently if you lay in the tanning bed and get an actual tan for the first time in ten years, and you go out and buy new underwear that is not pitiful and left over from college (even though your butt is half again the size it was in college), and you leave town without your children for four nights in a row - then apparently you forget how to do math, and your judgement becomes skewed, and you make some not-particularly-wise decisions. Apparently. And apparently if you are very fertile as a people (hey, there has to be some kind of bonus from having hips like this) and all the other afore mentioned factors come into play, then apparently you end up having four children. Apparently.
We are excited about a new baby, but I'm not going to lie. I'm a touch overwhelmed still at the prospect of starting all over yet again and dragging ANOTHER baby around Walmart with a buggy full of stuff, two boys that won't quit touching each other and screaming at the other while begging to buy one of everything they see, and a small girl who can disappear faster than Houdini on speed while shoplifting small objects and gum into her tiny pockets. So what I'm saying to you is - get ready for lots more entertaining blog posts I'm afraid.
The reason I couldn't bring myself to write this summer is because most of my summer was spent lying down being very still so I didn't hurl. I was not in a good place. At.All. Of all my pregnancies, this has far and away been the roughest so far, and I knew if I were to try to write anything then my complaining, attention loving self would be compelled to talk about it every single time. And don't you just hate those people that do nothing but gripe their whole pregnancies? I know I do. I just want to say to them, "oh, I'm so sorry that it is uncomfortable for you to grow and entire human inside of your body. That's weird that's it so bad for you because for the rest of us it's all rainbows and sunshine and kittens." So I just didn't write to save y'all the trouble of rolling your eyes at me.
And I'll tell you what really did the trick to put it all in perspective. This spring, we had a missionary come to our church to give an update on the work our congregation supports in Guyana. As he's showing the slide show, he would tell a little story to explain each picture. Well he got to a photo of a man and a woman and their baby who looked about 3 or 4 months old, and he told this story -
"(the woman pictured who's name I can't remember) was pregnant and was out working alone one day at their farm, eight miles from their home. She went into labor and had to deliver the baby alone in the field. Then she had to walk home with her new baby. Then she went back out to work the next day."
Say what again, now?
So as it turns out, being unexpectedly pregnant in a place where I have air conditioning, cell phones, cars, pain medicine, epidurals, hospitals, and maternity leave (from the job that I don't even have, mind you) is really not that big of a deal at all.
Can someone please remind me of this when in a few months I'm complaining about my swollen feet, inability to sleep, and need to pee every 27 minutes?
I've missed y'all,