Written June 27, 2011

You could make an eternally long list of the things Chris and I are horrible at as a couple.

1. Stock Car Racing
2. Corporate Accounting
3. Break Dancing
4. Marine Biology Identification
5. Making Weapons in Prison
6. Butchery
Etc. Etc. Etc….

But at the very top of that long list in big, bold letters would be the thing we are the very worst at.

BIRTH CONTROL.

Because somehow for the second time in our three short years of marriage, I am accidentally pregnant. AGAIN.
How does that even happen? How do two reasonably smart, college-educated adults, who both sat through health class lessons on the birds and the bees accidentally get pregnant not once, but TWICE? How??

Don’t answer that. We know how. I guess the better question is why? As in why us??

Here’s the story. We had just enjoyed a wonderful week at the beach with Chris’s family. On the way home, I started to feel a little car sick. I never get car sick, but I was in the back seat entertaining Eloise in bumper to bumper traffic, so I figured all of the stopping and starting was throwing me off. We stopped and ate lunch and I felt a little better since I had some food in my stomach. When we finally made it home, I still felt a little weird but didn’t think much about it. Chris’s mom casually asked me, “You aren’t with child are you?” and I half-jokingly said, “I sure hope not”. Then I called my mom and when I mentioned that I had been car sick, she asked me “You aren’t pregnant are you?”. I told her no, but it weirded me out that she would be the second person to ask me that in the same day.

I had to go to the drug store anyway to get a few things, so while I was there I picked up the cheapest pregnancy tests they had, just to put all of the suspicion to rest. I got back from the store, and left the tests in my purse so no one would see them and make a big deal about it. (Remember, my sweet husband starts to sweat even when he sees a TV commercial about pregnancy tests). Chris’s parents decided to take Eloise for a walk and I darted upstairs right after they left to do the deed. I got the kind of test that you actually pee directly on, so I had a clear view of the results window as I was going. The very second the pee hit the test, a blue plus sign was staring right back at me. The test didn’t even have to think about it. I was definitely knocked up.

I wasn’t scared or sad like last time. The only thing my brain could conjure up was “I am the only person in the world who knows this right now. This is my secret”. I am such a weirdo. I stood there for a few more seconds and managed to think a quick and eloquent prayer, “Lord, uh… well…. umm… blessthisbaby”. That was it. My secret moment was over. I needed to tell someone. It was time for Chris to sweat. Luckily he was downstairs, so with the blue plus sign in hand, I squeaked out an ominous sounding “Chrrrrris?” And darted down the stairs to where he was. I ran right up to him and just stuck the test in his face.

He saw it and said, “Are you serious??” Of course I was serious. I know better than to joke about mess like that. So I just stuck it in his face again and pointed to the plus sign. I am, pretty sure he didn’t even look at the plus sign. All he needed to see was me coming down the stairs with a test in my hand to flip. He, in typical male fashion, took a moment to process. The next few minutes were filled with him leaning his face against the wall and me buzzing around him like a housefly trying to asses the situation. I hate to admit it, but a lot of my reaction depended on how he felt about it, and I needed to know what he was thinking. Fearing the worst, I kept saying, “Everything is going to be okay” and “Our first baby turned out pretty good and we love her, so that means we can love another one”. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he removed his head from against the wall and looked me in the eye and said, “It’s okay. I’m happy.”

And just like that, I was happy too. We were going to be okay. Not at all how I thought the day would go, but at least this time we weren’t crying.

So and so it has happened again. We started the day as three and ended as four. Since then, some of the old fears have reared their ugly heads (more on that later) but I am going to need two things. First, I need to trust like always that God is good and he knows what he is doing. Second, we probably need the number of a good vasectomy doctor, before we wake up one day and are suddenly the Dugggar family. No offense to Michelle and Jim Bob, they are great folks, but I don’t think my sanity could stand that.