… Pregnant. Not at all. Not accidentally, not on purpose, not even trying. Not planning to try in the future (I’m 38, so putting something like that off wouldn’t be very sensible).
However, I AM moving to a new house and found this picture in a notebook I was about to throw out (notes from a German class I took when Steffen and I were first dating and I had time to learn German… Which I really need to do at some point). The date was 3 April 2013. Tommy was about 13 weeks old (dating from conception).
I’ve pinned this shot to the whiteboard, so Steffen will probably come home and freak the fuck out.
A friend of mine IS pregnant, with her third. My two pregnancies both overlapped with hers, so I feel a strange mixture of emotions about not being pregnant again. I feel like I’m getting my life back now that I’m working again, and I feel like our resources (emotional, financial, and just general energy) are pretty much stretched to the limit. And two kids always felt like the right number. But newborns are so nice!
I think what I actually want is a grandchild. Or a niece or nephew that lives nearby, maybe. Or maybe we should just offer to babysit for the pregnant friend (who we will soon live much closer to! Who also occasionally reads my blog… So I guess this is an offer?)
Two babies due early next year! I’ve had a quiet year for newborn knitting, but it’s time to get started.
- Unexpectedly, but not unhappily. Our landlords want their house back and have given us notice. Initially this was stressful and annoying, but once we came to terms with it we started to realise we kind of hate our house, mostly because it’s damp and mouldy. And we’re moving to the other end of the city, near to a few good friends and nearly everyone we know with kids, so now we’re excited.