So finally something to blog about.
And almost on purpose this time. Jethro and I had been talking about trying for a boy for years. Recently, the talk became a little more proactive, and God said, "That's it! They said yes!" And boom. Here we are. Expecting a sweet little baby sometime in June.
We won't know if Jethro will have a son and heir until February, but as he said on his facebook status, "May the third child be a masculine child." We are going to hope that translates into a boy and not a lesbian.
So that's the good stuff. Now the bad stuff. I'm sick as a freaking dog. I don't know if I've ever mentioned this, but I handle pregnancy about as well as an Occupy Wall Street protester handles baths. Among other unpleasantries, I am nauseous constantly and I throw up so hard and often that I worry about detaching my retinas (hypochondriac that I am). I've always wanted more children, but I just didn't have the strength to be pregnant, especially after Gwen and Em being so close together. And I was young then.
But after a 10 year hiatus, I've worked up the nerve to have another go. And it's just as bad as I feared, so this will have to be the last even though I wanted 4. I just can't do it.
But it will be worth it. I don't even have to just tell myself that. I know it. Gwen and Em are proof. They are so helpful and sweet and excited, I could cry. I'm a horrid bitch from the belching depths of hell when I'm sick, and they have been so patient and good. They must have really, really wanted another sibling.