I’ve yet to even speak – er, uh, I mean type – the word on this blog yet. I do, after all, have a history of jinxing myself.

The doctor isn’t worried that I’m a few months shy of 40 years old and have been trying for the last 8 months. He tells me these things take time at my age.

Why the hell didn’t someone mention that to me when I was in my late 20’s? Of course, to be completely honest with myself it wouldn’t have mattered had they mentioned it because I wasn’t even sure I ever wanted to be someones mother. Not because I was afraid of motherhood itself, but because I was not excited about the idea of bringing a human being in to this fucked-up world we’re living in. I was thinking these thoughts in my twenties, and now look at it. Nearly twenty years later and the world is in worse shape yet.

One thing motherhood has taught me is that no matter how awful the world-at-large is, my little bubble of a world is just perfect as long as I have my little man. He motivates me in ways I never knew I could be motivated.

So, we’re trying for a sibling. And as I sit here and type this post my breasts are tingling. The tingling I haven’t felt since the last time I was pregnant.

I’ll know for sure by the end of the week … I’ve already got the ept test ready, hoping I need to use it.

Fingers are crossed.

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