Let's rewind to the summer. I kept having this little feeling that I was pregnant. You know, that little feeling called heart burn...? It wasn't only that, there more signs pointing to pregnancy but I refused to entertain those thoughts. After all, there's NO WAY I'd have another baby. That would make 6. No one has 6 children in this day and age...and speaking of age, two words: BASICALLY FORTY. I convinced myself I was way beyond new babies.
So, when found myself at the pregnancy tests in the store, I figured, it'd be no big deal to get just one...of course it would be negative, and I could move on in life. I was just really trying to put myself at ease.
It's obvious what came next in my story.
Tears, anger, joy, more tears, blame Ace, more anger, and then just plain panic. What if it's twins? What if there's a health problem? What would I do about my brand new job that I LOVED? Gah! I couldn't function. There were a few weeks during the summer that were less than relaxing, but nothing I could change except for my own attitude.
DRAT.
Finally, I came to grips with reality and we told our family and close friends. No one believed us! I had to carry the ultrasound picture around as proof! We decided that we weren't going to post on soical media (I was still using both hands to stuff that humble pie in my face), or say anything to many people. If you didn't actually see me, or hear a rumor, you wouldn't have known.
I worked up until Christmas Break, and then I stayed home and tried to catch up on all of my neglected projects before the big day came. Plus, I had to shop for the baby necessisites since we GOT RID of EVERYTHING baby AGAIN, after the twins.
(We got rid of all baby stuff after Birdie was born, because we were DONE. Then we bought TWO of everything when the twins were born, and got rid of all of that, just in time to find out we were having another. This time, we're hoarding all things baby, and "done" is no longer in our vocabulary.)
When February finally came, things got REAL. I was suddenly remembering what it was like to be huge and uncomfortable. Sleepless nights had returned, and I was dreading my upcoming, inevitable, hospital stay.
The day of my scheduled C-Section finally came and couldn't have been any more perfect. Dr. Isbell walked into my room while we were waiting to go into the ER, drinking his Diet Coke. I knew right then, I had picked the right doc for the job, and that I was in good hands.
At 8:11 a.m. Ace and I were all of the sudden in charge of 6 children.
Six. That changes things. For instance, this blog. There's nothing 5 about us anymore. But I can't change the blog address. So, I have to change the name. We also had to come up with two names for this little girl. One for the birth certificate, and one for this blog! As if the blog name isn't hard enough! ;) haha!
So, without any further blah blah blahs, let me introduce SLICE.
A slice in golf may seem like a terrible thing, but it may be just the shot you need to refocus your game. It may be the very thing you needed to remind you to keep your head down, or your feet and hips square, or your wrists locked, or whatever. Perhaps that slice shot put you in a better position to see the flag--or the end goal. It could be just the shot you needed to make a difference in your game.
That is exactly what Slice is to our family. In her short 5 days in our family, she has made a difference in our lives. She has brought a piece of heaven to our home. She has reminded me of what's important in this life. She has helped us refocus our priorities. Was she planned? No. Did I want to throw a golf club, or bust the shaft in half over my knee when I realized things were not going according to MY GAME or MY PLAN? Yes.
However, I am so grateful for this unexpected shot. I hate knowing what I could have missed out on had we kept things according to our plan straight down the fairway!! We are deeply, madly in LOVE with our perfect Slice.
The photo onslaught begins here:
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