A notice to my 3 regular readers:

I had my first baby nearly 11 years ago, and 2 more babies after that.  Number 4 is due at the end of February, and my biggest challenge is what sort/brand/size of diaper bag to get!  I’ve never been very happy with any of the myriad I’ve purchased in the past.  Backpacks, small pieces of luggage, oversized beach bag sorts, multi-compartmentalized, one big ol’ sack, over one shoulder, across the chest…no matter, I’m always hunting for the next, better, this-one-will-make-my-life-perfect diaper bag. 

Please send suggestions, if you happen to love/to have loved your diaper bag.   

That for one, I keep reading the pregnancy loss blogs?  Heartbreaking stories of second trimester miscarriage, torn up women painstakingly describing the event, some even of still births…what is wrong with me?  Why would I do that do myself?  I mean, it’s one thing to be, well, realistic I suppose, that there are never guarantees in life, but another to fill my head with the deep sadness going on around me, even if only in the blogosphere, and then allow doubt and fear to creep into my own heart.

So here I am, in the 21st week, with nothing but good reports from the sonograms, measurements, doctors, nurses, etc., and I’ve started to gather a few things for the baby.  Even saying it feels a bit strange.  For the baby.  A few swaddling blankets,  sleep gowns, footie sleepers…but I feel I should keep the receipts, and not open them all, and wait to wash them till like the 37th week or something.  And even then, what if he doesn’t come home with us?  Horrible thoughts, I know.  But it’s what real women truly have to suffer sometimes, and occasionally, more than once.  Multiple times.  And I have to be the first to admit that I have absolutely no idea what it must be like.  And maybe that’s why I feel these nerves this time…I, we, have been able to bring home 3 of the most beautiful, healthy babies.  And now the fourth is half way "home".  It’s almost like our life just couldn’t be that lucky, or blessed, or whatever you want to call it.  Is there another shoe to drop?  Some sort of cosmic balance that may say three’s enough?  Am I just hormonally challenged, and unable to relax?  My faith says perfect love casts out fear, and I’m loved perfectly by Him, the Father, so I should allow the fear to recede…by my fleshly hands holding those tiny clothes…they transmit the nerves to my head and I feel concern.  Not all out worry, just unrest.

I remember having a bit of this with each of the others.  And this entire pregnancy, it’s sort of like I’ve been waiting for the bad news.  It just couldn’t be that we’d have so much, so easily.  I mean, the pregnancies suck…they are sick, lethargic, full of vomiting and indigestion, but they come fairly easily, and although must end in c-sections, have also ended in wonderfully whole and healthy babies.  Who can really complain here? 

I suppose, I just need to breathe, and think positively.   

It’s a boy.  A boy.  We’ll have three boys.  Three little sweaty headed, stinky footed, dirty fingernailed, all-together messy, but so yummy, boys.  I will be the mom of 3 boys, and one extremely princess-y girl.  What a wonderful thing. 

And I just knew it was a girl.   What do I know?  Definitely not what to name this penis-possessing child.