Two years ago, I had a small outpatient procedure to address some minor “female issues”. At some point during one of those doctor visits, my doctor began a conversation that had a statement beginning with “Women of your age…”
I have no recollection of what she said after that.
Women of my age? I was 38 going on 39 at the time and I certainly didn’t consider myself in the “women of your age” category unless it was something like these…
“Women of your age” have jobs and children.
“Women of your age” go to the grocery store regularly.
“Women of your age” shower daily.
You get the idea.
I was pretty settled into my “women of your age” life when suddenly God threw me a curve ball. Early last month, He said (in His own way, of course)…
“Women of your age have babies.”
Yes, after three pregnancy tests to confirm what I knew in my sinking (and sick) stomach, we have begun to prepare our family for a new addition.
I was SO not expecting this.
Two boys. A good marriage. One of us still gainfully employed (which in this economy is no mean feat). I was settled.
I can’t say that I’m jumping for joy. Or that I’m “thrilled” at the prospect of becoming a mom for the third time.
But it’s sinking in. And the
sheer terror excitement is beginning to build. I’ll be 41 when this babe makes his or her appearance in early October. Sweet Son #1 will be 10. The Manimal will be almost 5.
But I got to see the heartbeat at 6 weeks. And hear it at 8 weeks. Miraculous. There’s a baby in there.
Hi Baby. Hope you don’t mind a slightly neurotic mommy who is a “woman of THAT age”.