Gravy.

My last post was about being sick. And when I wrote that post I was sick. And it felt like constantly. My nose was a fountain, and if it wasn't running it was stopped up like a clogged sink. I felt achey and "off" but slogged through my workouts and routines with my coughing snotty-nosed daughter in tow, hoping the season would pass soon.

Then I realized, right at the beginning of a really intense yoga class, and by intense I mean hard, difficult, hold-the-pose until sweat is running down your chin and your shoulders are shaking class, that I hadn't gotten my period yet. I began counting back days while I ground through my sun salutations and found I couldn't dig into the class the way I like to. Was I late? When was my last period? I couldn't be pregnant. But what if I were? I have fertility issues. Don't I? Was I torquing a little embryo out of position at this very moment with my extended triangle pose? I bailed out on the class. My head was out of the game.

I picked up Delaney from the child care center at the Y and zoomed across the street to the Publix where I picked up stir-fry veggies for dinner and a pregnancy test. At home, I plopped Delaney in front of her alphabet puzzle and in a state of anxiety, went to pee on the stick. Didn't even have to wait the requisite two minutes. That plus sign lit up like a Christmas tree and confirmed my little embryo in there hanging on throughout my yoga class.

So miraculously, incredibly, unbelievably, I am pregnant again at the ripe old age of 41, to turn 42 later this month. Now that I have been to the doctor and gone through all of the tests and am assured that I am fine and the baby is fine, I feel comfortable writing about it. I'm nicknaming this one Gravy, because that's what it is. Unexpected, unnecessary even, in that I feel/felt so complete with Delaney and Justin. But oh so welcome, oh so sweet, and the perfect ingredient to spice things up, now that I am feeling comfortable, and confident physically, financially, and emotionally. I love a well-timed a curve ball. Well-played, little Gravy.