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  • Writer's pictureStephanie

State of the Unionsuits

It’s been a while.  How are you?  I’ve missed writing to you.  It’s therapeutic.  Plus life often seems way more sensible in hindsight.  Time to catch up.

Summer is over.  The leaves are turning brilliant colors in my backyard; the air smells cool and spicy like every adult female for miles around is overdosing on pumpkin lattes.  Which they probably are.  Christmas shopping starts at the beginning of November (my husband runs a retail store; it’s true whether you admit it or not), so all the pumpkin must be pureed and consumed within the next month.

I currently have a 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, and 11 year old (the oldest does like to be odd, ha).  It’s strange not to have a baby on my hip when I have a two year old.  Honestly it’s been a rather pleasant break.  I love my babies, but after a decade of car seats and drool, diaper bags and nursing, I have loved the freedom to simply send the whole crew outside to the sand pile and not worry that the youngest will try to eat most of it.  Some, but not most.

I very much dislike hormonal birth control (flooding my body with synthetic doses of extra hormone daily seems to affect more than just fertility) but neither my husband nor I have been ready to commit to surgery to halt the whole process.  What’s the worst that can happen?  I have another baby?  Stranger things have happened.

Funny then, that I was in denial at the end of June.  It was hardly possible.  Hardly.  Just only barely.

But enough.

I guess I can confide to you now.

Baby number seven is on the way.

I can feel little kicks and punches.  Especially if I drink too much pumpkin latte.

Change is in the air.

I’ll keep you posted.

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