It's been 6 months.

You are probably wondering, as I am too, where in the world have I been.

Lost in baby world.

As I sit here baking peaches -I'm seriously baking peaches right now - and pausing for a moment while my son sleeps soundly for naptime...I'm starting to wonder where have the last six months gone?

Baby world, that's where.

The first few months are tough to remember. This is what I do remember -

First two weeks - a nightmare
Next six weeks - a managable sometimes unmanagable nightmare
2 months into it - Okay it's managable.... no longer a nightmare
3 months - I think I could..... maybe one day...... I could maybe have more kids
4 months - This is really not bad. I definitely want more kids.
5 months - Man I love this kid.
6 months - Darn it, I want a million babies if they are half as great as this one.

Those first few months were certainly hard ones.

Because I have absolutely no shame, I'm
posting this picture of me only days after my
little guy was born. And yes, I am wearing a skirt
and pajama pants at the same time. No shame.

I wish someone would have mentioned that to me so I could have better prepared myself.

But they didn't.

Behind all of the well wishes and all of the smiles and nods, I never - not once - had anyone tell how hard of a job it would be.

Sure they said I wouldn't sleep. And they might have told me that I needed to rest up but never did they say I would be a complete wreck.

That I would be lucky if I could squeeze a shower in. And maybe a meal. That just as I would finally get the little guy to sleep, he would wake up minutes later screaming for his next meal.

They didn't say that in one moment you could be pooped on, then puked on and then turn around and spill coffee on yourself because you are so tired. So unbelievably tired. Exhausted.

They didn't tell me that I would never again drink a cup of hot coffee. That a cold cup of hours old coffee would be my friend.

They didn't say that I would cry a whole lot for no reason at all in those first few weeks or that I would want to kiss the ground my mom walked on because how in the world did she do this with four kids.

No one warned me that everyone and thier grandma's grandma will ask me if I was breastfeeding.

I'm serious about that.

The cook at my favorite breakfast joint, the cashier at the grocery store, and my mail woman in front of my friends. Or the random woman would taught me how to get a good latch on the nipple by demonstrating it with her hands while my husband's jaw drops in disbelief while sitting in the waiting room of the doctor's office.

And know one ever tells you that if you breastfeed you're automatically inducted in some secret breastfeeding club and if you don't well.... shame, shame, shame on you. And you're not a member.

Nothing quite prepares you for any of that.

I remember the first time I went out of my house on my own. The first time I drove my car after having been cooped up in the house for weeks. My car felt so different. Like it was someone elses car. The old me. :) Receipts for tj max and marshalls sticking out from the sides of the seats and my drink I left in the cup holder from life before baby. It made me kind of sad. Never again would I jump up and take a run to the store grabbing just my keys and my wallet.

I drove over to Marshalls. Because that's what the old me would want to do. As I walked into the store I saw a woman with her two kids. I couldn't help but stare at them. She was dressed cute, her hair fixed, makeup on. Her two kids were neatly dressed and happy.

And all I could think was - How in the world does she do it? How does she dress both kids and herself and put makeup on and fix her hair and feed them and make sure she eats and put them in the car and take them out and......and then I stopped staring because it's rude and because it's probably creepy too.

And Marshalls? - It was different too. All I could think about was what my little man might need. I wasn't shopping for the home, wasn't shopping for me. All I could think about was him.

That's what I remember about those first few months. I don't think I have ever been such a mess in my whole life. Maybe it's a good thing no one really warned me.

And boy have I come a long way! In those six months of after birth shock I learned how to embrace the new me. The me with baby drool and spit up on my clothes. The me who might have time to fix my hair or might not, who may end up with a mom haircut afterall. You know what I mean. The me who  has to focus on moment to moment instead of making big plans. And you know what I'm okay with that because rollercoaster that is was, it was the best six months I have had yet.

Dermatologists....who needs 'em.

Looking back on my pregnancy, I can remember some pretty funny moments and some that were not funny at the time but looking back I have to chuckle. 

One of these not so great moments that in hindsight is so awkward I have to laugh now happened while I was at work.

One afternoon while I was working at the art gallery, a man came in and was interested in one of our artist's work. As big pregnant as I was at 9 months ( it was a week before my due date), I was still moving paintings around like a champ.Whenever I did this, there was always the awkward, "So when are you due"

To which I replied, "Next week."

And as with all conversations like this there was always that uncomfortable "Well don't have it here, now." look that instantly reflected on their face. Followed by the "Trust me, I won't, you moron." thought that instantly crossed mine.

And then our conversation went here....

"So shouldn't you be on maternity leave."

And I said something like, I wouldn't know what to do with myself at home. So might as well wait it out here, I guess." The thought of me being almost nine months pregnant and watching Oprah on the couch was too much for me to think about. No sense in have Prepartum depression before the post.

And all the while I pulled painting after painting out until he found the one he was looking for.

"I need to think about it." he said.

I offered to email him an image of it which he thought was a great idea and he followed me as I waddle my very pregnant self back to my desk to write down his email.

And the conversation went here....

"Here's my email address." He wrote it down for me and handed me the piece of paper. I glanced down at it as he tells me something about how his email address has to do with the fact that he's a dermatologist. 

 

I didn't get it. But okay. 

Then I remembered that there was a dermatology convention in town.

And he said something like, "Thanks for everything. I really love this painting. I just want to see if I have the right space for it."  I agreed that this was important. And as we wrapped up the conversation and we politely said our goodbyes, and my hand went up the air to wave him goodbye, the conversation inexplicably went here....

"Don't worry," he said as he turned to wave goodbye. "You're face won't always look like that."

And as I stood there waving, I said, "Huh?"

He walked on over to me and pointed at my face. My face that over the past nine months had had its fair share of breakouts from all the lovely hormones pumping through my system. My face that as we spoke looked the best in my mind, that it had the whole pregnancy. My face that I thought was having a good day.

And if to make matters worse. If to put the icing on the deliciously rude cake this man had made for me. He repeated it again. His hairy finger in my face, he added. "You know, it's a pregnancy thing."

I don't know what thoughts were going through my mind at that moment. I can tell you that it took him walking out the door for it fully register, because the moment after he clarified what he said. The moment after he removed his finger from the space in front of my face...I thanked him.

Are you wondering why? Me too.

I thanked him like he had just told me I won Miss America. Like he had just given me the Nobel Peace Prize for just being me.

"THANK YOU!" I gushed "Thank you so much!" And I smiled this great big smile and I laughed this great big hearty, I'm jolly and pregnant laugh.

And what did he do? 

He smiled and he nodded his head and he left. Pleased with himself. Glad that he told me.

As he walked through the door, I stood there blinking, wondering what in the heck just happened. 

My co-worker snapped me back to reality....

"Did that man just say what I think he said."

"Yes, he did." I said flatly. "Yes, he did."

To anyone who has ever been pregnant or is pregnant, I'm sure you have had a moment like this. I can laugh at mine now. If you want to share I would love to hear some venting. :)

Did You Lose Your Sense of Humor?

One of the first things my husband asked me after labor and things had finally settled down was if I had lost my sense of humor.

"Well did you?" he stood there smiling.

"What ever do you mean, sweet dearest husband?" I said glowing.

Okay scratch that. Here's my real response.

Imagine the look on my face. I mean after labor and the crazy things that went with it, to be asked this question. There was a "Seriously?" followed by a sharp stare, followed by a don't ever ask me that again. Period.

 It wasn't the first time he brought it up. He brought it up a few weeks before.

"I read somewhere that women lose their sense of humor after they have a baby."

"Really?" I said. "That's weird. I bet that won't happen to me."

Most of our pre-baby conversations started off like this. My husband reads everything. He likes to know everything about everything. Me, on the other hand, I read some things here and there. Our conversations usually went something like this....

While loading the dishwasher

BB: Did you know that babies are born knowing how to walk?

Me: Really?....huh.

Followed by a full scientific explanation. Then followed up even more with some scientific netflix movie on babies. (that was, might I add....incredibly boring.) ((We also forced BBs parents to watch this and I'm incredibly embarrassed about this))

On the way to the Mexican restaurant to satisfy one of the many cravings

Me: Did you know babies are born knowing how to differentiate between languages?

BB: Really? Did you know that babies can recognize their parents' voices when they are born?

* Followed by a week long email correspondence of every article either one of us could find on this.

While shopping in the grocery store

BB: Did you know that babies can do math?

Me: What kind of math?

BB: Like Addition and Subtraction.

Me: Huh. (At that moment, I imagined our little peanut adding on his fingers the moment he got out of the womb and it worried me.)

So when my husband asked me if I lost my sense of humor I started to really wonder because there was no telling what scientific journal, netflix movie, or online journal article told him I would.

Did I?

I was starting to wonder.

In the first few weeks I was home one of my good friends came over to visit.

"You must have so many funny things to say about this (referencing my new motherhood). Your blog posts will be so funny."

Chuckling, I agreed with her. But really, the wheels were turning...... funny? am I funny anymore? are any of the sleepless nights funny? projectile baby vomit, spilling my coffee on myself, pee shooting in my face.. funny?

And I didn't want to tell her there were many nights I started to write a post but I just couldn't. Sleepless nights will do that to you.  Plus what will I say, I have nothing funny to write about.

But then something great happened....I started getting some sleep.

Not a whole lot. But enough to where I didn't feel like jumping in my car and heading for the hills.

And something else happened too. Ham started smiling. (That's what I call him) and with each little smile I realized that I was starting to smile more too. This isn't so hard. I can do this. Pee in the face is funny. Projectile baby vomit is a hoot. Unless on your face, then maybe not.

And slowly but surely the initial shock of motherhood wore off and I was, well, me again.

So to answer my husband's question, Did I lose my Sense of Humor?

Nope, it's still there. Just took a pause for a minute and it's back on track. More on this later.

We're Going to Miss You, Muffin......a lot.

Sadly, our neighborhood cat was killed this morning on her way to meet me as I left for work this morning. A car zoomed through our neighborhood and struck her as she crossed the street.

Dear Muffin, 

You drove me crazy most days. You knew what time I left for work, what time I watered my plants. You knew if you meowed loud enough and long enough, I would feed you. You terrorized my neighbors dogs, you walked into their homes like you owned them. You played in their flower beds till your white coat was black. You were weird and mean and sometimes really nice. You made me late for work most mornings because of your ridiculous guilt trips. You were the outside friend my Murphy wished she had. You were my friend too. You were a friend to everyone. Everyone who had food. You brought me locuses and lizards right to my doorstep. You spit them at my feet. I loved you a lot, Muffin. I know I complained, we all did, but you're in a special place in our hearts. I miss you.

Rest in peace.

Love,

Carrie

I wrote this post about Muffin back in December of 2009. She arrived in our neighborhood a few months before. We never knew where she came from but she instantly won us over. I don't think she ever gave us a choice.

Some call her Snow White. I call her Muffin. Jason calls her Cotton. Whatever her name really is -- she's the neighborhood cat.

I don't remember when it was exactly that she began to grace us with her presence. Maybe four months ago? That's seems about right. She showed up in our neighborhood as if she had always been there. As if she had always owned this street.

I admit when I first met her I felt sorry for her. She was a mess of fluffy white cotton hair caked with mud and specks of leaves and sticks tangled throughout her coat. Her big yellow green eyes drew pity out of any one who locked eyes with her. She couldn't have been a whole year old, maybe six months. Her skinny little body made you wonder just how long it had been since her last meal.

I decided to take her on. I grab two bowls from inside and filled one with water and the other with some of Murphy (our inside cat)'s food. Jason couldn't believe what I was doing and said that before long I would become the neighborhood cat woman. But she's could die, I told him. She would starve, no one is taking care of her...

That's how is started. That was Muffin in her first days in our neighborhood. Over the next few weeks a unique transformation took place...

At first I noticed a love or a hate for muffin from our surrounding neighbors. She ate their plants. She harassed their dogs. They sprayed her with hoses. Some had adopted her as their own. Some had even named her Snow White which I thought was a ridiculous name. She was not Snow White and I would never call her that. One week, a pink flea collar showed up on her neck from the neighbor two doors down that's when I realized that Muffin's visit to our neighborhood was more permanent than anyone had hoped for.

Once Muffin knew she had us, it all went down hill from there. One day I was driving home from work and as I neared our house I saw her walking down our driveway. She'll move, I thought. Cat's are good about dodging cars for the most part. As I pulled my car into the drive. She didn't move. In fact she wouldn't budge. I honked and she sat there staring at me. Finally, I threw half of my body out of the car door and fussed at her. She moved alright, but only after minutes of fussing went by and aggravated drivers lined their cars up behind mine.

That wasn't the only thing.

The ragged washed up Muffin from the early days was no longer visible. Muffin was looking good. Her once tattered coat was a puffy fluff of pure cotton. She was beautiful. But noticing the change in her appearance made me notice something else just as important - her stomach.

Muffin's stomach was growing at an alarming rate. Is she pregnant, we wondered. We - meaning all the neighbors were noticing it too. Muffin's possible pregnancy was the topic of conversation among the neighbors for days. We wondered how many kittens she would have, we wondered where she would have them, and we wondered who had claim to which one of the kittens she would have. Would they be all white like she was or would they look like the father whoever he was. It never dawned on us that she wasn't pregnant.

Muffin's fat belly was the result of her dining habits. One weekday night when the neighbors sat on their porch swings and watered their gardens the truth came out. As one neighbor placed a bowl of food for Muffin on her porch it started a "You feed Snow White (Muffin)?!, well so do I!". Muffin had been making the rounds. Literally. She started on our side of the street in the mornings and crossed the street to hit up some houses in the afternoon.


I knew all to well the guilt she caused. I too had fallen victim. Every morning since she had shown up in our neighborhood, muffin would meet me on my porch. Her shrill cries were enough to send me running back into the house and back out with bowls of food. One day I had had enough, I rushed out the door and patted her on the head and said 'Not today Muffin I'm going be late'. As I pulled out the driveway I tried not to look at her but she glared at me. I pulled into the street and turned in the first u-turn to make my way to the bridge. Glancing back at the house, I couldn't believe it. Muffin had never left my porch. Her eyes followed my car as it moved down the street. The farther I got away the more pitiful looking she got. At that moment the guilt swept over. Before I could even really think about it I was u-turning again, jumping out of my car, running into the house and throwing food into Muffin's bowl. Everything I had in my arms (my lunch, my purse, my keys) fell all over the place. You know what she did? She took a sniff at it, realized it was a new kind of cat food and trotted back down the porch steps. And me? well I was late.

That's muffin. No matter how much she aggravates, no matter that she harasses your dogs, no matter that she almost peed on your neighbor's kid because she doesn't doesn't care where she goes, you love her because she is after all the neighborhood cat and I guess that means she ours.

Dear Jason.....

Dear Jason,

Our first wedding year has really flown by,

And I thought I would give you a few reasons why,

I’m happy I married you in the first place,

And it’s not because of your B movie shows set in Outer Space,

It’s not your cold feet on my skin that I like,

Or that lie you concocted about my custom-made bike,

Oh, It’s definitely not… your Gears of War game,

And it’s not your new snoring habit that’s especially lame,

It won’t be your steel toe boots that are left on the floor,

Or my feet that have hit them and are really quite sore,

I know for a fact that it’s most definitely not,

That framed piece in your man room of the fisherman's knot,

It’s not Futurama and it's not Family Guy,

Or your pricey store items that you just have to buy,

It’s not the garbage bag that you forget to put back,

Or the days that you decide to be hypochondriac,

So why am I happy? Are you wondering why?

Because despite all these things you're an A+ guy,

There are so many reasons to be happy with you,

So just sit back, relax and I’ll tell you a few.

It’s the days you make breakfast and chocolate milk,

It’s our brief obsession with Soy Milk Silk,

Our Sunday trips to the Common Grounds, are always quite nice,

And how a dinner side at our house is sometimes plain rice,

I like how you love to drink up some tea,

How you shred all the junk mail in the house just for me,

You stuck around before I knew how to cook,

And you prepare my fishing pole with a worm and a hook.

In fact, it’s all of the fishing poles for me that you bought,

It’s pats on the back you give Murphy for lizards she caught.

It’s that surprise trip to Italy for our honeymoon,

Because you were worried I never go if we didn’t go soon.

It’s how happy you got when we planted our plants,

It’s your dedication to getting rid of our problem with ants.

It’s our bike trips, pre-baby, that I loved a whole lot,

Even though my petal broke, and I crashed to a stop.

It’s how you stopped to feed a cat on our Destin trip,

And then into the Bayou you almost took a pretty big dip,

It’s those Jack Johnson songs to Henry to get him to dance,

It’s how you cringe on the inside when I say  “finance”.

It’s the imaginary instruments that come out with a band,

It’s how you navigate a city with no set plan,

It’s our sazeracs, we loved, and that we used to consume,

It’s how you graciously gave up your beloved man room,

There are reasons too numerous to count on my hand,

Because the truth of the matter  is… I’m always your fan,

I love how happy you are about Henry, our Lentil Bean,

It’s how you call our cat, Murphy, M.J, and Murphine,

So how has this year been so far for me,

More exciting and wonderful that I could ever foresee,

Last year on this day, I said that I do,

I’m so glad that my best friend and my husband is you.

Love,

Carrie

Happy Wedding Cake!.......I mean......Happy Anniversary!

October 23rd marks our first anniversary. I've been looking forward to this day for a while. Not because I wanted to say hey we did it - high five!  But because I've been thinking about our wedding cake.....for a whole year.

I love wedding cake.

The moment Jason asked me to marry him (the second time) I started thinking about wedding cake tasting and all the wedding cake I would get to eat between that point and the wedding. At my wedding, one of the few things I remembered eating was three pieces of cake and one when I got home. It's a real problem for me. 

I figured out early on that I wanted my cake to be from Swiss Confectionery. My caterer had a cake from Swiss at our wedding food appointment and it was love at first taste. From that moment on, I knew I needed to get over there.

That week I called Swiss asking for an appointment to try their cake. They said that they didn't really do cake testing but if I wanted, they would give me one piece of cake to try when I got there. They said I should come in on Friday so I could see all the cakes for the weekend weddings to get an idea of what I wanted.

But the truth is I didn't care what it looked like.

Fortunately for me, Swiss is walking distance from my work. So that Friday morning I went to work pretty early so I would have plenty of time at Swiss. I parked my car at work and set out on foot. As I turned the corner to the street where Swiss is.....I was almost knocked out by the intoxicating smell of delicious divine wedding cake. I breathed it in like I was taking my last dying breath.


I think this is what Heaven must smell like. Like Swiss wedding cake.


* God if you're reading this, I want my heaven to smell like wedding cake. I think the whole rest of Heaven should smell like wedding cake too. I bet everyone up there would really like that. Just a suggestion. Love, Carrie


As I walked up the street to Swiss, I couldn't help but wonder how many other people take this route. How many others go out of there way to smell wedding cake. I would. Everyday. Wouldn't you?


I threw open the door and glanced around the room. I have to say I didn't see wedding cake right away and I was disappointed.


I walked up to the counter and waited for someone to come out of the back where I guess wedding cake magic is made. Wish I were back there.


Finally a woman came out. I tell her that I'm there to see some cakes and that I heard about them from my caterer.


"Oh,"she says, "then you got to try a piece of it at the wedding food tasting?"


I look at her and squint so she won't see my lying eyes. I'm the worst liar. "No mam. I didn't" I say shaking my head.


She eyes me up and down. My eyes dart to the floor.


"That's odd."she said and walked into the back of the cake store.


I let out all of the breath I had been holding just a she emerges with a piece of cake on a napkin.


"Thanks so much," I say. " I really wanted to get an idea of what it tastes like, this helps out a lot." I'm so full of it.


She ushers me over to another room where all the weekend wedding cakes are hidden, tells me to let her know if there is anything I might like and leaves me in a room full of dreamy wedding cakes.


I have an impulse to dive into them, devouring cake by the handfulls and making sounds like the cookie monster but I don't. I contain myself. Somehow.


I don't see anything that screams Carrie's wedding cake, but the truth is that's not why I was really there to begin with. I'm here for the cake. Who care's if it's three-tiered or two-tiered.....well, three-tiered means more cake......


After a while, I return to the counter with the woman who makes cakes. I tell her I haven't quite found what I was looking for that I'll return on another Friday.

"Do you sell cake by the slice?" Wouldn't that be a dream, because I'll take two to go.


"No we don't." "Just whole cakes."


I hide my disappointment and wave to her as I leave the store. Certain I would be back and hoping she wouldn't be there when I returned..


The next Friday, I made sure I made it to work with enough time for Swiss. I didn't want to miss out on one minute of our time together.


As I made my way to the store, I crossed my fingers and hoped the woman cake maker was not there. I pushed open the door, my eyes adjusted to the lights and there he was.... a man cake maker. Thank goodness.


"I'm here to look at some cakes for my wedding," I told him. "I heard about ya'll from a friend." Oh Carrie, stop. Stop lying.


"Oh? Have you tried our cake before?"


"No, no I haven't." I said smiling. I'm amazed at how easily it rolled off my tongue.


And there I was eating another piece of wedding cake. Pretending again that it was the first time I had it. Walking through the room full of wedding cakes to kill time, because I would be back anyway....next Friday.


You might be wondering how long I would get away with this and at that point was I beginning to wonder it too.


The answer is not long.


The fourth Friday, I went to Swiss, things didn't go as smoothly as I hoped. I had my whole act together, what to say to get them to offer it. "No, no I haven't tried it. I've heard it's delicious." or "I heard the cake here is so amazing, I had to come try it."


But that day, after my Friday piece of cake was secure in my hand with a napkin,  guess who walked out of the cake making room?


The woman cake maker.


"You?" she said.


I had just finished telling a guy that worked there that I had not tried the cake before. I had just shoveled a piece of cake in my mouth.


"You've come in before."


I chuckled a nervous, get me the heck out of here laugh.


"I......"


"I couldn't help myself." "He offered and well........"


And I just told her. I told her the truth. Yes I come in here every Friday to look at the cakes. Yes I'm really getting married. Yes on several occasions I said that I hadn't tried but in fact....I had. And....I'm sorry, but.....I love wedding cake. I love this wedding cake. I love Swiss.

I shrugged my shoulders sheepishly. I gave her my most pitiful face.


And she looked at me and she smiled, shaking her head. "You know, you're going to have save the top of the wedding cake for a whole year."


"I know."


"And you can't eat it before then."


"Uh-huh."


"But if you do......" "If you can't make it a whole year...." She said. "I will make you another one."


I smiled. "Really?!"


"Yes. You just let me know."


And with that I went to the room of wedding cakes and I picked out our wedding cake. Nothing fancy. Nothing over the top. It doesn't matter what's on the outside anyway. I picked out a wedding cake that made me smile....thinking about eating it.


And it did make me smile on my wedding day as I'm sure it will on my anniversary.


Thanks Swiss for putting up with me.

Lintel Bean (and sometimes spelled Lentil Bean)

Lintel Bean - a  bean considered to be a type of pulse, a bushy annual plant of the legume family, grown for its lens-shaped seeds.

And well it's also the name we decided to call the baby growing in my belly.

I can't take credit for our name choice. This time. I've been known to nickname everyone with names such as "butterbean" "peanut" and "anard" and my favorite ---their first name + marie ---no matter the gender. For example: "Daddy Marie" "Jason Marie" and  "Christen Marie" - whose real middle name is something like Delores or maybe its Deanna.

I found out I was pregnant about 10 weeks ago.

When I was kid I pictured the way my future husband would propose, never thought much about the wedding, and thought alot about the moment I would tell him I was pregnant. I'm sure most girls think about weddings. But I mostly thought about those special conversations.

I replayed them in my mind, the scenerios, the happiness, the excitement.

I'll have to share my proposal one day, both of them. :) Just not today because this story is about the much anticipated, "I'm pregnant."

When I met Jason and I knew (much later on) that he would father my kids one day, my scenerio became more specific. 

I pictured this:

I took a pregnancy test. Alone. And then I waited, because I'm such a CALM person. So this makes sense. I waited until the timing was perfect.We would be in Target. Walking hand and hand down the aisles and then magically we would wander onto the aisle for the baby clothes and just as Jason would tug my arm to direct me down another isle. I would look up at him and smile a radiant smile. A smile that says I have something incredible to tell you. I would say something like,"I think we belong on this aisle. Picking up a onesie, I would say, "I'm pregnant." And we hug and laugh. And buy everything on the baby isle.

Sound creepy and weird?

It is.

Let me tell you how it really happened. :)

But before I go there. I have something I need to say.

Do you know the story of the boy who cried wolf? And then no one believed him. I think that's how it goes.

Well when I got married to Jason, while he had picked up the habit of snoring....Click here... I had picked up the habit of thinking I was pregnant. Every. Single. Month.

I can't tell you how many tests I took. Or the secret pleasure I felt in buying them. Or how often I told Jason we were going to have a baby. But what I can tell you is that it finally happened. And when you've gone through it as many times as he had, I imagine it's pretty tough to believe it.....well pretty tough for me to believe it either.

So this past June went like most of the other months had. I just knew I was pregnant.

And so it started.

"So I think I pregnant." I told him on the way back from the movies. (This is on Saturday)

Jason smiles and shake his head. Keeps his eyes on the road. No shock, just completely calm. Why? because why should this month be so different then the past 7 months I thought I was pregnant.

"I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant." I said, as I sipped on a Whiskey Sour at a bar on our street. (Saturday night)

We both smiled and shake our heads. No way, Hosea. We both thought. But just for fun, I said it anyway.

"The baby and I are headed to church," I said smiling a goofy smile and waving goodbye to Jason as I headed off to church. (This is Sunday morning)

He chuckles and rolls his eyes.

"We'll say some prayers for you." I say for good measure.

"The baby and I are going to the gym for a while, we'll be back later...." I call out to him as I lace up my tennis shoes. (This is Sunday afternoon.)

I hear him laugh and say, "You know you're not pregnant, you did this last month." (and every month for the past seven months, but whose's keeping score.

You're probably wondering why, if I thought I was pregnant, did I not go immediately buy a pregnancy test? (or drink a Whiskey Sour?)

Because I really didn't think I was AND I embarrassed the heck out of myself buying 5 sets of pregnancy tests all on different trips to the SAME Wal-greens the month before. I couldn't stop myself. I really, really believed I was.

And I wasn't.

And the girl at the check out counter....She knew I wasn't either. I'm surprised she didn't stop me, pull me to the side and say, "You have to stop this right now."

So by Monday night I had the strangest feeling that even though I was saying I was pregnant and I thought I wasn't pregnant that I might actually really......be pregnant.

I made up my mind I would wait until Jason left in the morning. Fly to Wal-greens, pray to God the same woman wasn't working the counter and get my test! The test would, of course, be negative.

It was positive. 

I rubbed my eyes really hard. Squintted my eyes. It can't be. I never thought. My mind was racing. I couldn't think. I started dialing.....but wait!

It can't go down like this! I can't give up my dream of telling Jason. My beloved Target scenario....

But my fingers wouldn't listen. My pounding heart (that I could hear through my ears) egged them on. And the next thing you know, I hear this.

"Hello?" (Such a lighthearted response.) While my mind was racing, my husband was thinking about what he was going to eat for lunch that day.

"Jason are sitting down?" I say this in one breath.

He laughs, "Well I'm driving"

"I'm pregnant." I say and then I hold my breath.

Silence.

"Huh?" "Did you say you were pregnant?"

"I am."

"How do you know?" At this point he senses that I'm not joking anymore. That I'm not going to say "The baby and I just took our 110th pregnancy test and we are pregnant. ha ha! Just kidding!

"It was positive."

"You had a plus sign?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't know." But really, how could I not be sure a minus is a minus and a plus is well.... a plus.

And after a few moments of wrapping our minds around it..... we laughed. Because that's what we do when we're nervous. 

Really nervous. Happy, really happy and very nervous. 

For the rest of the day we called each other twenty times. Just to make sure that it was true. Just to remind each other that in nine months we were going to have a human being that looks a little like him and a little like me. And for now we were the only ones who knew. 

And that's how it started with our lintel bean. :) 110 pregnancy tests, A few "I'm pregnant"s (who am I'm kidding....many), and a panicky not so perfect or dreamy phone call later. :)