Surprise Pregnancy

(This is the last picture of me with my life in control with small pants)

In a life with three kids, a member of the church, a husband Bishop/entrepreneur, a wonderful old house with a very long to do list I had just barely thought, "I can do this." I began to see an end to the dynamic insanity of my life. There were moments of order. Moments in between chaos, screaming, pillow fights, toy avalanches, and dinner explosions. But those moments were hope. A sign that Prosaic and an extended stay in a rehabilitation center with the Olsen twins and Lindsay could be avoided all together.

My period was late. My face was filled with the lovely compliment to wrinkles, pimples. No face should have both. I felt absolutely incredulous. There was no way I could be pregnant, really felt, "no, no, no way." But evidently I was wrong. I took the First Response test, knowing that it would reassure all of my irrational thoughts of pregnancy. The control test would rest my fears and reassure my faltering sense of control. No, again. Boldly the First Response was two strong blues lines, mine, laughter. I thought perfect. Just when I see the light, feel like my family is done, and feel for the first time in years I am not a wreck--food, boogers, and fecal matter are only on my clothes occasionally, my pant size is (was) listed with a single number, and I rediscovered hobbies and interests. Wam! Bam! I am pregnant of the immaculate kind.

I understand biology. The kids and I have had many conversations about eggs and sperm but I still have no idea how I got pregnant. Amelia asked if Daddy could give me a sperm while I was in Utah. I explained that we had to be a little closer. She asked, "in the same house?" "Yes, dear." "Sitting on the couch together?" "Closer is good." And I am pretty sure she knows something I do not.

The funny thing about pregnancy, at least my pregnancies, is no matter the number I fall into the same pattern. I really tried to go on as normal in my singly numbered pants, but all I want is food wrapped in bread, butter, and cheese. I want it all day long. Any sort of self moderation vanishes. Where the extra blue line sat on my First Response, there I left any sort of will power or craving for any vegetable. After now five first trimesters, I still go to the grocery store and my impulse is to buy everything, just in case I may want to eat it and likely if it is wrapped in bread, butter, and cheese I will. While I was pregnant with Amelia any time I went to Costco I would buy a meat that I had never before or since bought. Cornish Game hens! Fish! All of it was jammed into our itty-bitty, student-housing freezer. Which consequently opened while we were on vacation over spring break. Cornish Game hens and fish don't smell great after sitting for a week at room temperature. You'd think I would have learned my lesson. No. I spent $200 at Trader Joe's, mostly on frozen food. There is something in the surge of hormones that makes freezer items absolutely irresistible.

BUT YOU GOTTA LOVE A SURPRISE! Really sanity is overrated and so are clean designer jeans when you have great genes!