Conor's first sentences!

Overdue pictures from Zachary's first-ever day of school to come tomorrow, but for now, I just had to share with you what has motivated Conor to speak!  He sat down in front of the pantry yesterday, and very clearly articulated, "Please cracker."  Awwwww!  (And yes, Roar, I'm sure that wasn't a derogatory statement.)  Later, he mixed sign language and speaking to come up with something even longer:  "Please (sign) cracker (spoken) eat (sign), thank you (sign)."  Isn't he brilliant? 

Yeah, um, so, about that...

You know what really surprises me?  You keep coming back here.  Yes, you.  You are awesome.  Thank you for checking in.  Actually, I've known all along how awesome you are, which is partially why I have been unable to post anything.  I want to be completely honest here, so I didn't feel like I could post without sharing the thing that's been preoccupying my thoughts. 

Okay, that's not entirely the truth.  Here's part of it:  Part of the truth is that I'm lazy, and busy, and lazy, and I haven't had a lot of motivation to post.  I've got pictures and we've gone places and had visitors and I started falling behind even further than usual and there was no way I was going to catch up.  I'll work on getting over that. 

But here's the other thing.  The Big Thing.  I'm pregnant.  Yes, again.  And no, this wasn't planned, and no, I didn't think it could happen.  Certainly not at 38 when not trying, and certainly not to us.  This couldn't happen, you see, because for a decade or so, we were not trying and then trying and then trying really, really hard, and then hoping, and wishing, and praying, and testing, and testing more, until we finally got the miraculous help we needed to make Zachary, Madeline, Conor, and Samantha.  Those little guys, they were meticulously planned.

And no, I didn't learn from my girl Tanika, who experienced her own Curve Ball, at the same age, in under almost the exact same circumstances.  Miracle, I had thought.

So the day after I muzed that I couldn't remember when I last had my period, and the day that I realized I could smell the subway train, I took a pregnancy test, or ten.  I spent the rest of the evening wide-eyed and in shock, and the Husband spent it vacillating between denial and bliss.  We can't afford another child, I thought.  We don't have the room.  I'm tired.  And we can't afford another child.  I might've freaked out a little.

But the next day?  We saw our baby's heartbeat on an ultrasound. 

Miracle.

The funny thing about all of this is that even after we had twins, when people were saying, You're done now, aren't you??  Even when my head was saying, We have enough children, thankyouverymuch, I knew, I JUST KNEW, that at least one person was missing.  I knew that despite the fact that we are not financially prepared, that we don't have the space, and that I'm exhausted, our family was not yet complete.  I felt it so strongly that I told a select few people that if medical assistance did not bring us that child, I would adopt. 

So here's our baby who fought some odds to pick us.  Sooner than expected.  Not in the manner I expected.  In short, not our plan, but Someone's plan. 

I still feel too old and tired and not ready, but mostly?  I'm grateful.  Really, truly grateful for our miracle.