I’m either pregnant or really stressed.

Between the choices, I’m crossing my fingers for the former. Really, though, between the birth control and the fact that I’m only on the 20th day of my cycle (and I don’t think I’m that in-tune with my body), the odds of making Riley an older brother in 40 weeks are very slim. But this nausea? Could it be that I’m having mini anxiety or panic attacks?

Officially, Rob and I are waiting till our finances are in better order before we pop another one out of the oven. Unofficially, I’m in baby-making mode. The glow of pregnancy and the feeling of a person developing inside of you; the joy and sense of accomplishment when holding the baby for the first time; the unequivocal bliss stirred at every little thing this new person does; even the late nights, piercing screams and inconsolable crying, and ghastly changes to my appearance – I’m absolutely addicted to ALL OF IT. The trade-off for having a perfect little person to take care of and love – it’s the most gratifying venture I’ve ever taken part of.

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