I had one of those moments two weeks ago. I was late. Three days late.
This would not be the ideal time for me to get pregnant. Which, I have to point out, is exactly why it would happen. I woke up each morning, torn between joy and hyperventilation associated with the mere thought of another child. Don't get me wrong, I love babies. Especially my own. But I've given away all my infant paraphernalia. And I need a bigger bar. Where would we put the baby? Would I stay home with this new child as I had my others?
These thoughts were the last I thought each night and the first I awakened to each morning. Until, on day four, I started my period.
I was disappointed.
I was relieved.
Have you had a similar experience? I hope you'll share your feelings with us.