Being a student, I thought that life would slow down in the summer. I imagined long, wandering walks with my children, climbing adventures, and more zzz’s than I needed. Wrong. I currently have a chalkboard sign up on my wall with “My grace is sufficient for you” written on it. I’m thankful for the daily reminder because starting in CO, our lives got a whole lot crazier.
We got to Estes Park, CO on Friday around noon after 16 long hours in the car. My kids did great. Evie jumped out of the car, kissed Grandma and Grandpa and then almost bounded up the four flights of stairs that led to the Mexican restaurant they had picked out for lunch. James followed with the baby and I felt like I limped behind. I felt so sick. I had talked to a friend just days before about the altitude sickness she experienced in Denver. I thought, Gee, this must be what she was talking about. I felt dizzy, nauseated, and ready to fall over asleep on the table. I guzzled down water thinking I could curb the altitude sickness if I kept really hydrated. That seemed to help. I got part way done with my food and had to push it back, gagging. I couldn’t decide if it was the assumed altitude sickness or the mushy mass of soggy tortilla, shredded beef, and wilted lettuce that made my stomach start somersaulting.
Fast forward a few days to the old family cabin in Cuchara. It’s this quaint little town comprised of one main street dotted about with cabins. One night we had a fire outside. We all sat around talking. The guys drank single malt whisky while Aunt S and I split a bottle of red wine. A (neighborhood) little yellow lab had wandered into our yard and played fetch with us for about 45 minutes. Long before the fire was out I made my way blearily to bed. All in all, an ideal summer evening. … until 2am. My eyes snapped open and I grimaced. I was going to be sick. I groaned, rolled out of bed, trying to avoid stepping on my daughter who was on a pallet on the floor, and made it to the bathroom. I knelt there on the emerald green carpet (We do not own the cabin, so we’re not responsible for that grossness.) Oh, man. I thought. I’m pregnant.
The next morning James and I set out on a quest to find a pregnancy test in the slightly bigger town of La Veta, which has a population of about 800. Turns out there were no pregnancy tests. We looked several places and no one seemed to carry them. We got back to the cabin, laughingly telling our family that we might be pregnant but couldn't be sure since stores in La Veta apparently didn’t feel the need to stock EPTs.
As you can imagine, the first place I went when we got home was the dollar store to get some pregnancy tests. And can you guess who I ran into while I was there? MY MIDWIFE. We both laughed. She made me promise I would text her right away with the
results. I drove home, three tests tucked in my purse and dashed to the bathroom as soon as I could. I waited about 30 seconds before those two pink lines popped up! Baby’s estimated due date is early March but we’ll go for a confirmation ultrasound in about a week. According to our best guess, little munchkin is about the size of a wild strawberry and is currently making my morning coffee smell terrible (I may or may not have almost cried the first morning I couldn’t drink it.). Three kids three and under, here we come!