Third Time's A Charm

If you had asked me 6 weeks ago if I was going to have another baby, I would have told you--in no uncertain terms--absolutely not. No way. No how. Nuh-uh. But then something happened: Alex hit the magical 6-month mark.

It's the same thing that happened after Lucas was born. One day I'm be-boppin' & scattin' along, completely content with my solitary son, and the next I'm telling Ron I think I should get off the pill so we can start trying again. And we did actually "try" with Alex, which was a joke. For 3 months I bought those stupid ovulation tests, which are basically target practice for when you take the "real" test. I never could catch a hormone spike with those stupid things. So we tried, which was annoying. If you have ever actually "tried" to get pregnant in a keeping-track-of-ovulation kind of way, you know what I mean. And with no results by early April that year, I told Ron that we were going to abstain until further notice so as not to conceive a Christmas baby.

He was fine with that, so fine, because his birthday is December 19th, and as he will be happy to tell you, it sucked when he was a kid. His siblings always hit the proverbial birthday goldmine, while little Ronnie got the shaft--one present to cover both occasions. So for that reason and the fact that I absolutely did not want to spend the Holidays on bed rest, we abstained. Except for one teensy little indiscretion the night before Audri & I left for Minneapolis. Except for that one time. And wouldn't you know...I spent Christmas home alone on the couch, lying with a pillow between my knees & timing contractions while Ron took the boys to celebrate in Glenwood. Happy Effing Holidays.

So this time when we decided to go for number three I told Ron, "And we're not going to actually try, like I'm not going to track anything. We can just have fun and see what happens." You'd think I would have learned something by now, wouldn't you? Like I'm sure as soon as those words were out of my mouth, people in the back of the theater were covering their eyes in horror & shouting, "Nooooo...Don't go in there!" Yeah, well, after you.

Off the pill I came. And since I didn't even have a standard "green week," I thought, "Oh great, I'm not even ovulating. Fan-tastic." I am 35, after all, and at 35 (according to one report) only 55% of women will successfully conceive after a full year of trying. So I waited. And waited. And I thought, "I wish I'd get my freakin' period so I'd at least know that I'm functional." Not that that has anything to do with whether or not you're actually ovulating. But I digress.

So...still waiting. Then last Thursday when I got home from work, just for S&G (and because if you're a woman and have ever gotten into the addictive cycle of peeing on sticks "just to see if maybe") I grabbed a First Response out of the linen closet ("linen and pee stick closet" more specifically) and headed to the bathroom.

"Ron?!" I hollered. Then walking out into the living room, eyes fixed to the tell-tale stick, "Ro-o-on!" Where the hell was he? "Where are you?!" I yelled.
"In the kitchen?" from the next room. Oh.
"I think we're freaking pregnant," I said rounding the corner.
"What?!" So this is what it takes to get his attention away from the computer monitor.
"Seriously," I handed him the stick, "How many lines do you see?"
He looked down at the decisive lines I had thrust in front of him. "We're pregnant," he said, "Holy crap."

So we're shocked of course, but only sort of. God forbid I would be off the pill longer than two weeks before getting pregnant. Wouldn't want to be normal or anything. Now we're just waiting for my first doctor's appointment on September 13th to find out the actual due date, though we're guessing the last week of April or first week of May.

Let the games begin!