My Little Stowaway

The good thing about being 7 months pregnant during a 10-hour flight to Hawaii is that I didn't have much time to sit still (and thereby increase my already elevated risk for deep vein thrombosis--something my doctor was sure to point out to me when I told him I was off on the unavoidable trip for work). In fact, thanks to my little stowaway, who seemed to like flying so much he was joyously dancing on my bladder the whole time, I was up about every 15 minutes the entire flight. And as I walked back and forth from my seat to the tiny bathroom, a bathroom that seemed A LOT smaller to my 7-month-pregnant self, I realized that I am still a bit in denial about the whole thing.

We learned about our little stowaway about the same time we learned about Sky's diagnosis. This was also the same week we put Pink P in preschool and I got feedback from my dissertation advisor, so it was a great week all in all. (And by great, I mean extremely stressful). We were sure we would be having two kids--after all, I'm pretty sure these two equal six "normal" kids (as if there is such a thing as a normal kid). Originally, we thought we might want to have three--there IS strength in numbers--but after our trip to Japan last summer, we had both decided that trekking half-way around the world with two small children was a) expensive, and b) really stressful when trying to get through Japan's (and one of the world's) largest train station(s) without losing one or both of the kids.

Funny how things don't usually go as planned. But I guess, I've already learned that most of the unexpected things in my life have also turned out to be some of the best. So, here's to a little more loss of control and the impending arrival of our little stowaway!