So Mr. 4tops finally gets home, and excrutiating hour and half after the phone call from the nurse.  I didn’t know what to say.  How to tell him.  I was up in the bedroom, in my grubby work clothes, cleaning out the closet and packing boxes, not looking lovely.

As he talked with me for a few minutes, and then began to leave he said, what do you know.  Whaa?  I replied, stupidly.  What do you KNOW?  Are we pregnant?  

SO the proverbial cat was out of the proverbial bag.  And he was really, really excited. 

I wanted to wait on the children, especially the youngest, who is 5, and in whom I have no confidence would A.  even understand, or B.  be able to keep a secret.  Which we want to do till we can tell other family.

But Mr. 4tops was excited, and wanted to include them, as we usually do with most things.  So, within an hour, we told them.

And they both burst into tears.  So much for the family Kodak moment.  We had a bottle of champagne for a toast (for us, not them, and don’t fuss at me, I was only going to have half a glass), and were all hey, this is happy, and they just fell apart.

Why?  1.  They were overwhelmed.  For whatever reason, it was overwhelming to them.  Maybe because the house is upside down, we’re moving, ect.  I don’t know.  But it seems, they were.

2.  It seems, I’ve shared one too many Baby Stories and Discovery Baby shows with them.  I love them.  I think they’re miraculous.  They, however, seem to think it’s awful painful, and somehow have derived, dangerous.  They were scared for me.  Is that sweet?  They said that after all 3 of them, they didn’t want me to have to go through it again.  I suppose this is one of the things with having older children.  They get more, but not everything. 

So.  We talked.  And in the end, when we told them the only reason we are as happy as we are, is because of our experience with them.  If we didn’t love them so much, we couldn’t imagine how awesome this could be.  They seemed to get that.  And that I’d do whatever I had to a million times over to have each of them in my life, so I’d do that for this child.  Which they’d undestand better, when they meet her/him (I’m leaning towards her). 

This morning, they’re whispering in  my ear little things that come to their minds, like, we can teach the baby to talk.  To walk.  Sign language.  And conspiratorially patting my stomach.  And telling me they are old enough to be there when the baby comes, can’t they be in the waiting room with the grandparents?   

I hope these things mean this is going to be a great adventure.  I’ve never been here before.  Older children, and a baby on the way.  Oh, G*d, I’m freaking out again.