At first I thought it was the flu.  Then I thought it was the oddest flu I’ve ever had the way it came and went.

And then I noticed my boobs were bigger.  I’ve never heard of the flu or any other illness having that side effect including weird glandular conditions.  They don’t usually affect just one body part.  Or two actually.

My friend said, “maybe you’re pregnant” and I said, “shuddup!”  and thought crap crap crap crap crap.

The first test was negative, but you know when you know when you know – you know?

Red wine stopped tasting good.

I suddenly needed to eat every 90 minutes or so.

I could tell when someone started a pot of Starbucks brewing (vs. Hazelnut Chocolate or Amaretto god-knows-what) from 30 paces down the hall at work behind a closed door.

This was so not the plan.  All the baby stuff has been given away or sold. 

There was bargaining with God or whatever might be listening and more snacking.

It’s funny because Angus has been a handful at times (or I’m such an easily overwhelmed parent) but now that he’s 4 I had just started feeling that I *could* handle a second kid, but immediately thought, “oh well i’m too old for that nonsense!”  I seem to only be too old in the head.

My Mom’s friend Gloria said, “that’s what she gets for doing yoga”.  Ha!  Yup, I’d better trade in yoga for whiskey shots and smoking or I’ll have to change my name to Angelina.

My Mom once said that pregnancies last 9 months to give every one time to get used to the idea.  I think she’s dead on.

The doctor had a hard time getting her head around it too.  She said, “so you went *off* the pill”.  I said, “um, nnno.”  Then a little later she said, “so you were trying”.  And I said, “um, nnno”.  And then later she said, “and are you going to go ahead with it?”  And I said, “yes”.  

My spider sense tells me she’s a girl.  I was never this ill with Angus.

So here’s where I’ve gotten so far.  As I’ve written here so often I’m trying to get better at going with the flow. I’m trying to get better at trusting that life is taking me down the right roads.  Even when the scenery is upside-down and the signs are in Swahili.  I’m trying to trust – some days it takes radical trust - that in hindsight, it’ll all be clear.  Or at least make slightly better sense than today.

So here’s another opportunity to practice.  If this little chiquita is *so* set on coming into the world, and has fingered me as her parent, I’ll do it.  I’ll sign up.  I’ll give her a bed and a home.  I’ll be her own personal overwhelmed parent.  I’ve figured that much out.  Thankfully I’ve got a few months to figure out the rest.