Away in a Manger

Why haven't I posted in so long? Because recently my mind has been in a fog, I turn in at 9 p.m., and my meals are peanut-butter sandwiches.

And now? I’m sucking on a “Preggie Pop." A Sour Raspberry Preggie Pop.

Firstly, I’m really curious as to when terms like “preggo” and “preggie” entered our lexicon. I didn’t hear them until about a year ago, when all of my friends in town decided to get themselves fertilized. Kyle and I looked at these couples – as two by two, they fell into the trap – with horror and confusion.

“Why?” we would ask tearfully. “Why do you choose to do this to yourselves?” We had already decided that we were going to need to find younger friends. Maybe join a Singles group.

And now I’m sucking on a Preggie Pop. And God is up there, having a good ol’ time. I hear him laughing every time I turn down Chick-fil-A. I hear him laughing as I suck on my Preggie Pop. I hear him laughing approximately four times every night when I get up to go pee.

Because the doctor, six home pregnancy tests, two ultrasounds and my ever-thickening mid-section have told me that I’m knocked up indeed with child. We have ourselves an Oops!, and nowadays Kyle and I are looking at each other with horror and confusion.

This poor child’s going to be a Christmas baby.