So....

I'm sure many of you have heard that old saying "Make plans and God laughs"???  Well, that seems pretty indicative of my life thus far this year. 

I "planned" to get back into running and do a half-marathon this coming November at the inaugural Savannah Rock n' Roll marathon event.  Instead, I ended up having surgery on my knee, promptly bringing any and all thoughts of getting back into running out of my mind for good. 

I "planned" on getting Anna potty trained and out of diapers this year, never to buy another package of diapers ever again in my life, unless it was for someone else. 

WRONG. 

Instead, I sit here writing this at 26.5 weeks pregnant.  Wha???  This was not in my life plan, having a third child.  We were getting so close to no diapers, getting out of the terrible twos (although from Carrie's recent behavior it seems that the age of 4 is more terrifying), and fully moving on from the baby stage of raising kids. 

To say I was surprised to find out we were having a third is the understatement of the century.  I mean, the irony here is undeniable:  I had to go through hell and high water with fertility treatments to get pregnant with Carrie (thankfully not having to go all the way to IVF, but we were certainly researching it), to managing to be apparently one of the 1% of the population that manages to get pregnant while on the pill (word to the wise, ladies - it DOES happen!).  Seriously? 

When I went to my first prenatal appointment I met with the nurse practitioner, standard procedure for the first appt in a pregnancy (at least at my practice).  She came in at about 28 weeks pregnant herself, with the exact same story as me - was perfectly fine with her two little girls, not planning on having another, and then BAM!  Guess what?!?  She and I both could hear God laughing at both of us at that point.  It didn't ease all of my apprehensions about adding a third little person to our family, but it certainly helped.  I remember her saying to me "it'll all work out somehow!  and just maybe this will be a boy for you like it is for me!"

About the time I started getting somewhat more comfortable with the idea of having another munchkin running around I started having some problems.  Guess that comes with the territory of being of "advanced maternal age."  As it turns out I had a subchorionic hematoma.  Let me save you some time - DON'T GOOGLE IT; you will come away from it, as you do if you google pretty much any medical condition, convinced that everyone involved was going to DIE.  That's not to minimize it, cause it was disconcerting and upsetting, but it managed to resolve itself by the time I was about 21 weeks along (hence why I have not, up to this point, mentioned anything about this pregnancy on my blog!)  Thankfully, as of my last ultrasound scan, there was no sign of the stupid hematoma, and that's after literally about an hour of both the ultrasound tech and the high risk doc looking in every nook and cranny to make sure it wasn't hiding anywhere. 

So now I feel like I've really settled into the idea of having three kids.  I am under no pretense that it's gonna be easy or anything like that.  I know that our lives are going to be thrown upside down yet again.  I know that it's going to, yet again, be a giant pain in the butt trying to figure out do we do nanny vs. daycare for this kid.  I'm not looking forward to having to get up multiple times in the middle of the night to nurse, or get up at the crack of dawn before going to work so I can pump enough for the baby to have each day.  But I also know that once I get to hold that little baby in my arms in about 12 short weeks (as long as he stays in there until he's supposed to come out, on or about 1/6/12!!), that it will all be worth it and somehow, someway, in the immortal words of Tim Gunn, we'll "make it work." 

Oh, and the crazy part?  This time we elected to find out the gender of the baby.  And when I say "we" I actually mean "I" and I convinced Jerry that for my own mental health I needed to know if it was going to be a girl or a boy. 

As it turns out, the nurse practitioner was right - it is a boy this time around.  :)