July 29.
That’s my estimated due date.
The nurse gave me a book of information, made all the appointments I need to have made, had my lab work done and on the way out, she handed me a bag with some “free goodies” inside.

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I’m going to have a baby.
It’s starting to sink in. When I lay on the couch with my family in the evenings, I imagine what it will be like to have a little basinet next to the sofa, waiting for the little angel to wake up hungry.
I imagine the the feeling of the soft baby skin upon my cheek as I bring the angel close to my face so I can lay sweet little kisses on it’s cheek.
I imagine dropping my boys off at school being much more hectic. Having to load the baby into the car seat, while the baby screams and cries because it’s hungry and me begging the little angel to hold on for 10 minutes while we take it’s brothers to school.
I imagine everyone fighting to hold the little angel. “You’ve had the baby all day mommy, it’s my turn!” Ethan will say. “Mom, can I please hold the baby now?” Andrew will ask. And I’ll sit there and watch my boys hold this precious little baby, our accident, the baby that wasn’t supposed to happen, and I’ll tear up at what a beautiful sight it is to behold.
I imagine laying next to my husband in bed after putting our sweet angel to bed, holding him close, and telling him how blessed I am to have another child with him and we’ll snuggle and talk about what a beautiful family we have. We’ll wonder why we never thought we could handle another baby and marvel at how the little angel made our family complete.
Funny how an ‘accident’ has suddenly become the greatest joy of our lives.

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I will never understand people who practice “voluntary vomiting”.

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The other night Tony popped open a bottle of beer. I made a comment about how unfair it was that he can still drink liquor and I can’t. At first, he got defensive, but I told him I don’t care that he drinks. BUT!
I told him that I miss being able to have a drink with him on the weekends.
Then, I convieniently brought up how my friend Jodi’s husband quit smoking with her when she found out she was pregnant.
“You want me to quit drinking beer while you’re pregnant, y, is that what you’re getting at?”
I responded with “Well, I think it’s only fair.”
I quickly took it back. It’s not fair to ask him to give up his beer because I’m pregnant.
Or is it?
He told me he was tempted to buy some last night, but he didn’t. I felt bad, so I told him I really don’t want him to stop if he’s doing it for me because honestly, it doesn’t bother me if he drinks. Asking him to give it up was really just one of those “girly” things that I do sometimes. You know, the whole “If you really loved me, you would sacrifice your beer for me while I’m pregnant” routine.
He said he’s giving it up and he’s doing it by his choice, but now I feel like some bitchy wife and I’m tempted to go to the MARKET tonight, buying him a 12 pack and telling him “If you love me, you’ll drink the beer that I went out and got you, damnit because I don’t want you to end up resenting me!”
But I won’t. He’s a grown man, and he can do what he wants and he knows this.

There are times when I still don’t believe a child is growing inside of me. I “feel” pregnant in some ways, but I can’t get my mind to grasp the fact that there is a baby forming inside of me again. I know it to be true that I’m pregnant, but until I see that little angel on the monitor in the doctors office, I don’t think my mind will accept it.
It’s very bizarre. When I was pregnant with Andrew and Ethan, I couldn’t stop thinking about the miracle of life going on inside of my body. This time around, I struggle to believe it’s really happening to me. I’m not quite sure why that is.
Perhaps it’s because I was planning on the first two, because I desperately wanted to be pregnant. This time, it was such a huge shock. One that left me on the floor, crying hysterically, screaming “NO, this can’t happen!!”
I don’t feel that way anymore, the idea of another child to love makes me extremely happy now that the shock has worn off, but no matter how hard I try, I still can’t believe it’s real.
Weird.
Tony felt the same way, up until about a week ago. Now he can’t stop talking about it. I think he was just scared because of my health, but now that he sees I’m fine, that I’m healthy, and happy, he’s able to relax and revel in it. He keeps telling me how deeply he loves me, how beautiful I am and how I’ve made him the happiest man alive with the news of another child to love. It touches me to the core of my being.
I can’t wait until January 12th, when I see my doctor and he confirms and gives me some kind of proof that my “so called” third child is real.
AHHHHHHHH. I’m going to have 3 kids!?!!
Unfuckingbelievable.

It should be against the law for pregnant women to watch Maternity Ward.
I am now worried my baby is going to have a tumor, low blood sugar, be born 10 weeks premature and be breech.
This is so sad and you better believe I will pray to God tonight to give me a healthy baby.

That is a picture of my gut taken just now. After looking at that picture of my GUT, I would like to say the following.
A) I better be carrying quadruplets or B) I better be five months along, not 2.5 or C) I better be carrying a baby who is just extremely large for it’s “age”.
It has to be C.
But I’ll be happy with A or D, because I refuse to believe I’m already this fat because I eat whatever I want, whenever I want it because I’m pregnant and I AM ALLOWED for no reason.

Everyone keeps asking me what my due date is. Well, according to the Due Date calculator I’m due on July 29th, 2004. It also tells me I’m already 8 weeks pregnant.
EIGHT WEEKS? ALREADY?
Only like 2 more months and I can officially blame the oversized gut on the “baby”.
And only 28 more weeks you have to hear about me being pregnant.

I made my husband cry last night.
Cry.
He never cries. Ever. So I knew I really fucked up when I said what I did.
He asked me what I wanted for Christmas, again. I thought about it and I said “I want to be beautiful again. Oh, and I don’t want to be pregnant.”
As soon as I said it I took it back. “I didn’t mean that Tony, I don’t want anything bad to happen to our baby!”
He just put his head in his hands and started to cry.
I didn’t know how to react, or what to do. I begged him not to cry and he said “How could you say that? That’s my little baby that I love inside of you.”
Talk about feeling like shit.
I reassured him I didn’t mean it. I just meant that life was good the way it was, and I’m still getting used to the idea of starting all over again with a new baby. It was a slip, but one I can’t take back.
We talked for a while about it and eventually he understood why I said it, but I still feel awful today. I actually prayed this morning and asked God to keep my baby safe, to let everything go well because if anything happens to this baby now, I don’t think I could live with myself.
Ugh.
Perhaps a sun dried tomatoe bagel will make everything better?

I think me and the baby are going to be just fine.
No more bleeding. I’m still cramping a bit, but everything is just fine.
Thank you so much for praying and for your concern.
I want a pickle.
Happy Saturday.