This is weird. I am pregnant. We are forced to tell our families at this early stage as we are all going to Coronado together and a week of me not drinking will give it away. We tell Mike’s sister first. She seems excited, then again, every single person who doesn’t have to carry the baby for the next 9 months seems excited. We make it to the beach that week and I look pregnant. I swear I do. I read that isn’t possible, it’s just bloating. That’s neat. I am bloated. At the beach. I had spent the past 4 weeks making sure this didn’t happen and in the span of 2 days, I know look 3 months pregnant and feel like I might throw up at any point.
We tell Mike’s mom next. We made the mistake of telling her at dinner when our kids were being less than perfect and our parenting patience had been stretched a little too thin. She doesn’t believe us. I get why, she can’t comprehend why we would add one more child to this mess. I start to cry. Mike tells her how great it is going to be. Brigid drinks white wine. Welcome to my new life.
The rest of the week was pretty much a repeat of the beach and me being miserable. I am trying to come to grips with this, but it is hard. It was very unexpected. We know how babies are made, we just didn’t think we were making one, so I have had about 4 days to adjust to this new way of life. I will adjust. I like my kids, I am sure I will like one more, but it is all happening so quickly. We finish the vacation with only a few meltdowns on my side. The kids have many, but it wouldn’t be vacation if they didn’t.