Full Circle, once again

This past weekend marks the start of one of the most stressful weeks of my life, last year. That of course, ended with glorious results.

You see, last summer we decided that adding another monkey to the family would be a good idea...no one wants just one monkey swinging through the trees because we all know that a solitary monkey has the potential to just be really desperate and sad and cooky and not just fling poo but maybe eat it (okay, gone to far, sorry).

Anyway - adding a monkey to the family. The idea of it was exciting and terrifying at the same time. What would I do with two kids? How could I take care of one busy toddler while another one, to be determined, was making me sick at the same time? What about all the progress I was making on weight watchers trying to slim down? What if it was a girl?

Well, in the grand scheme of things, we realized that those questions iron themselves out and that no time is the "perfect" time to add a monkey to the family...

You just wait and see and pray that it's in the cards. That there is another special little person waiting to join the ranks.

That gets us to this week.

Last year at this time I didn't feel well. I hadn't felt well for several days, but just blew it off and kept it to myself. It was Labor Day weekend and I was watering a friends flowers and then decided to just mow her lawn, too. My boys were going to run some errands and stopped to check on me on their way out of the neighborhood.

My husband asked me how I was doing. I told him that I was either pregnant or dying.

Shock to his system I'm sure.

Later that day we went to Target - as a family - and spent a ton of money on useless items to hide the fact that we were buying a certain type of test.

We got home.

I took the test.

Negative.

Ug!

I felt awfully sick and miserable, but those tests are 99.9% accurate, right?

Right.

So I resigned to the fact that I must be dying, threw on some clean clothes and went to a family barbecue.

The next day...still felt awful. Just decided to deal with it. When the awful didn't subside at all that day or the next, I did two things.

Took the second test from the pack.

Negative.

Crap!

And talked to my friends Mr. Google and Web MD about what could possibly be wrong with me.

Cancer?

Tumors?

Depression?

Psychotic episode?

Still didn't feel well.

Made Ross buy more tests.

Took two more.

Both negative.

By this time, it's Thursday night and I'm losing my mind.

We have a long discussion that night - about what's wrong with me. We decide that I'll take the final test in the morning, just to be sure. Then, when it's negative, I'll call my doctor and make an appointment to see if in fact, I am dying.

Ross alarm goes off that Friday morning. I bolt out of bed and pee on a stick.

I watch the digital timer do it's timer thing.

I don't have to watch long.

It's positive!

Holy freaking crap!

Positive.

After a week of negatives.

Positive.

I walk out of the bathroom and climb back into bed.

I tell my husband that I just took the last test.

He says, "And?"

I say, "We're going to have a baby, probably in May."

But just to be certain, I made him go and buy a few more tests, that I took. They were all positive, too.

And now, a year later, look at what we've got. A little squishy squirt of our own. The most adorable, squishy, even-tempered, brilliant ball of goo on the face of the Earth.

And he's all ours.

And we love him lots and lots.



Full Circle, the first time (incase you want to read it again)