Truman, our fourth and last child, was a happy accident.
Back in October of 2013, my dear mother-in-law was in town and told me to go grocery shopping by myself. If you want me to love you, tell me to go do anything by myself. Which is one of many reasons I really, really love my mother-in-law.
I had a sneaking suspicion – hey, am I pregnant? Tee hee. Wouldn’t that
be awful? Tyler would run away to Las Vegas and assume a new identity. Me, I
would pick southern California.
But I digress. I thought hey, I’m going
to be grocery shopping by myself (heaven), why don’t I take a quick pregnancy
test, knock out the possibility, and grocery shop free and easy?
So, yes, that’s what happened. There,
in the Wal-Mart bathroom, was a plus sign instead of a minus. And what did I
do? Well, I grocery shopped. Grocery shopped and cried.
Tyler seriously considered Vegas but
instead opted to hold my hand and freak out.
Oh well, we got this.
And while I dearly love (miss) my sleep, I
love Truman more.
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