The Thin Blue Line

Trick or Treat! New baby is due on Halloween

I have two children under a year old.  And they’re not twins, nor is either of them adopted.  When I tell people this I get a predictable line of questioning:

  1. Are you Catholic?
  2. Are you Irish?
  3. Are you insane?

I am Catholic, but haven’t practiced in years.  I am also part Irish, but not so much to make me reproduce willy-nilly. I’m pretty sure that’s a negative cultural stereotype, anyway. (The 1/8 of me that’s Irish tries not to be offended.)  I don’t think I’m insane, but I am getting there faster than I’d like to admit.

Here’s how I became a cautionary tale.  When my older son was three months old, I was hit with a tidal wave of exhaustion.  Of course I was exhausted.  I was 37, working full time, and taking care of a baby who refused to sleep through the night. “Mono”, I thought.  “I probably have mono.  Or maybe this is just what motherhood is like.  Everyone told me it would be exhausting.”  And there it was–the thin blue line on the pregnancy test.   I carried the test out to my husband, who looked at it, made some kind of incoherent grunting noise, and handed it right back to me. I can’t blame him.  In fact, I had taken a picture of the pregnancy test because I couldn’t process what the test results really meant.  It turns out that taking the picture was a pretty good idea–because, let’s face it, nobody wants to keep a three-week old pee stick and get excited over THAT.

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