Post the First

So, here we are. This is the "new" blog. I got married just over a month ago. I will soon be changing my last name (we're waiting to get back from a passport-required trip, to ease things on ourselves). The URL of my former private blog doesn't fit anymore, so we're moving operations over here. Plus, Wordpress has an annoying inability to be monetized, and once people realize what brilliance my blogs are, it's millionaire city! Right? Right??

However, if you're reading this, it's either because you have a Blogger profile and this popped up in your feed, or because you're a dirty stalker, in which case you need to step aside, ma'am. I have that market cornered, so don't even try to go there with me.

The reason I'm not publicizing this blog yet is that I'm about to reveal something I'm not ready to tell people. Apparently, within a couple of weeks of getting married, I became pregnant. I don't know whether it is my age or the amount of stress under which my body has been or even the meds I started on at about the same time, but I honestly just did not think that this was a very likely possibility. When I decided to have Daphne, back when I was much younger, it took more than six months.

Now, here I am 40 and with a jacked up back, but partnered up with the dearest and truest man I've ever known. I'm nervous, and maybe a bit in shock-related denial.

I already started compiling a list of OB/GYNs I've had recommended to me as viable alternatives to midwifery, for which I do not qualify because of my high-risk status. In fact, I might already have found my doctor. The delivery hospital is fewer than 3 miles from my house, so that's nice.

Part of me, however, can't help but wonder how likely it is that we'll make it to the hospital for a "standard" delivery. That's not just about my age, either... I think I had those same concerns the first time around. At least this time, I know better than to obsess over the delivery (first time: mystery; this time: sciatic mystery, but I realized that should have been the *least* of my concerns).

Also, if I do end up being a 41-year-old mother, I am pretty sure I'll be a lot more laid back than I was the first time. I mean, I've always had a laid-back parenting style, but I was overwhelmed by books and La Leche League and feeling like D needed to be stimulated in order to grow up "smart." I know better now.

I'm also cautiously excited. This is James' first kid. I look forward to walking through the process with him.

I've often said that I knew 20 minutes after Daphne was born that she'd be my only child. I can't imagine loving anyone else enough to renege on that. But James is totally worth it.