Whew. It’s good to get that off my chest. I’ve been sitting on it (so to speak) for about a month now. I’m about 8 weeks along.
I took the pee test the week after Easter, and sure enough, got a big pink + sign. Twice.
I’ve been struggling with posting lately (and covering with videos and pictures) because this fact has been blinking on and off in my head like a giant neon sign. I mean, nothing else (well, except Kate turning the corner on the whole potty-training thing) has been quite so central as of late. (Kate and the potty thing are a distant second, although pretty vital to the state of my oh-so-delicate stomach.)
For those of you keeping score: Wilco was Bud’s first show (oh, that’s what we’re calling the baby for now, Bud). And Dan drank most of that beer.
The girls are excited — a little too excited. They ask every single day when the baby is coming. For the record, we’re looking at an early December due date. Given my end-of-term issues, in my head I’ve moved that up to the week of Thanksgiving or so. I’ve told the girls “after Flora’s birthday, but before Christmas.”
They cannot wait that long. Just the other morning, Kate woke up, came into our room and asked, “Is the baby downstairs?”
It’s gonna be a long 30 weeks.