So I’ve done some serious considering, as of late.
I’ve decided that a public service 3rd pregnancy announcement via Facebook is exactly as trite and cliche as starting a mommy blog to chronicle the news of something as rare as triplets. But seeing as how I am not just starting this blog (and not, to my knowledge, carrying triplets), it does not feel trite nor cliche at all to announce here, that we are expecting our 3rd baby, some time in December. (This is according to the ever medically accurate iPeriod Ap on my once dreaded but now necessary for life iPhone).
Funny how by the third go around scheduling a doctor’s appointment, or for that matter, having an OBGYN, doesn’t seem quite so important.
Funny, also, how by the third go around, I am already realizing how many pregnancy details I blissfully blocked out. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve been singing from the rooftops my hatred of all things pregnancy since the moment Eliott was born and the idea of having even one more, let alone several (as per my plan for world domination) made me want to die, or embrace further aspects of science and birth engineering. I’m seriously wondering how I did this, with Carter anyway, while working full time. (I vaguely remember bribing my students with extra credit for gifts of food and I’m not sure I was above napping in my oversized desk chair during 4th period planning. Other than that though, the rest feels like a migraine headache blur, which, is probably exactly why I have no memory of it all.)
I did, however, take back several hypothetical-wishes with John, when I saw this most disturbing picture:
So here we are again, Fetus. You, and me, and Zofran, and at least sixteen weeks without any dairy. (I can live without cream in my coffee for a while, but did you have to take away my extra sharp cheddar by the block? I’m going to remind you of this on your 16th birthday, mark my seasoned motherly words.)
I’m now feeling relatively confident, based on the consistency of things, that you must be carrying two X chromosomes, and it was indeed a mistake to consign every single bit of my 2T and smaller pink clothing. It’s just as well. There is a severe lack of cool and confident women in the world, and as long as this family doesn’t go all Lisbon-sisters on me one day, I think I could get used to the idea of simply breeding awesome women in the face of the staggering odds against changing the world one person at a time.
In the meantime, dear readers, I promise not to regale you with weekly belly pictures and weight updates. I might be checking out for a while, as napping often takes precedence in the afternoon to everything else. I will, however, try to keep you abreast of the genius words of wisdom spewing forth from the mouths of my two current children, on all things baby related. Most are far better than the things I could come up with on my own.