For the longest time I wanted this blog to have a “direction”.  Would it be a funny diatribe about parenting?  An environmental log of the good we can do in the world? A place to rant, mostly incoherently, about the state of our public education system?  I’ve had this blog since April 2013.  That’s almost 6 years.  And on the eve of my 38th birthday I finally figured out its purpose.  It took me that long to realize that this blog is my therapy.

I write because it’s easier for me to put words down than it is for me to say them out loud.  I write because it’s easier for me to form my thoughts when I can see them rather than hear them.  I write because I’m pretty sure my head would explode if I didn’t get some of these thoughts out of my head.  I write because I feel like when I do I have a voice, even if no one is listening.

And so, on that note, we begin our story, on the eve of my 38th birthday.

I woke up early this morning for no other reason than I just couldn’t sleep anymore.  This tends to happen on mornings when I am “allowed” to sleep in, but such is life.  I went about my morning business, as you do, and gave pause when I noticed that it looked like my “time of the month” was beginning (I realize no one is probably reading this and I could just be blunt, but just in case, a euphemism gets my point across in this situation).  Now normally this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary for a woman of a certain age.

Except that I’m supposed to be five weeks pregnant.

Now I know it could be “nothing”.  I know it could be normal.  I know it could be this and that.  But I also know what it could be. It could be the beginnings of an early miscarriage.

Because I’ve been to this rodeo before.  Too many times.

I don’t say these words lightly.  I don’t say them to get sympathy.  I don’t say them for shock value.  I say them because they are true and that’s what I need to hear right now.  Something true.  Something blunt.  Something real.

I could be fine.  I could be having a miscarriage.

I found out I was pregnant a little over a week ago when I craved a brownie.  If you know me, you know how insane that is because I haven’t eaten a brownie since kindergarten (it’s a boring story, I promise).  And then I had an ENTIRE meltdown when Charlie was being a typical three year old.  Two entirely different reactions, but when they happened on the same day, they gave me pause.  So I took a test. And it was positive.  So I did what every other rational woman does who gets a positive pregnancy test…I took  2835392 more.  You know, just to make sure.

I found a doctor.  Made my appointment.  Tried to remember what I was and was not allowed to put into my body.  Got a flu shot.  Fought a sinus infection for four days with just low dose Tylenol. Told a few close people.  And tried to calm the fuck down.

And I did calm down.  Until this.

You know what?  I’m handling it better than I thought I would.  I’m handling it better than I ever did the 5 others times I’ve been in this place.  I’m trying to continue to remain calm.  But also, I’m trying to face the reality that this could all be over in a few days.

Maybe not.  But maybe.

So just incase, I’m going to concentrate on some things that I know will help.

I have 3 beautiful and wonderful children, each born after at least one loss.  They are amazing and thriving and HERE RIGHT NOW.  So I plan on making sure I prioritize them and all the love we have between us.

Thinking about having 4 kids made having three so much less overwhelming!  You want to build with your mega blocks right in the middle of the kitchen floor while I cook dinner using both the stove and the oven?  You go right ahead baby!  Because in 9 months we’ll be doing the same thing but I’ll also have an infant strapped to me and that will be really challenging.

When we thought we may have to move because 3 bedrooms and 4 kids doesn’t always equal happiness, I realized how much I truly love my house and my neighborhood.  I usually spend time looking for new houses because #boredom but now I know while this is my house, I’m ready to put in the work and changes to make this my home.

So, on the even of my 38th birthday, I know I’m ready.  I’m ready for this year.  I’m ready for all of the challenges that are undoubtably going to get thrown my way.  I’m also ready for all of the loveliness that will make an appearance too.

And you know what?  In 5 weeks you may see a pregnancy announcement from me letting everyone know that baby #4 is on the way.  Or you may see a picture of me with a giant glass of wine, enjoying adulthood and parenthood and my relationship full force.  While both pictures may be wildly different, never doubt the happiness that each of them entails.  I know I won’t.