Because apparently somewhere around March 15th, 2009 is when I'm going to start buying diapers and selling a kidney on the black market in trade for a lifetime supply of Valium for Jaime. Yes, it's true. I found out a week before I turned 41 that we're expecting.
Expecting. "Expecting" is such a nice term. It doesn't quite describe the feelings I've had in the last weeks. It's more like I'm wandering around, in partial disbelief that there is something! happening! inside me! and I'm half asleep all day with a chest so sore I'd swear someone had torn my boobs off and the slightest whiff of a strong odor has me gagging. Goodbye, coffee. Vodka, I know you'll be there in time. Thanks for waiting.
After a few minor freak outs and some tears (mine, not Jaime's) we are both pretty darn excited about this crazy turn of events. We've gone over baby names, totally prematurely, since we have no clue yet if it's a boy or a girl. We do know there is only one. Jaime made sure my doctor checked at the first visit and again at the second visit, just in case. If he comes to the third visit, he'll probably ask again in the unlikely event that a miracle has occurred and we made another somehow.
So...baby name choices are being tossed around. At the same time, we're house hunting. Life just doesn't slow down and let you catch up. You gotta jump on the carousel while it's still moving so you can get the best seat, right?