The night we conceived Alex, I knew.
It sounds unfathomable, but I was sure.
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I don't think I'm Miss Cleo or anything, but I fully expected that my child would be due in September. Is that crazy?
But David was sure we were expecting, too. After all, we'd been trying for a whole month! And he was very, very sure of his potency.
Which is why I'm a bit frustrated with him now that we're trying for our second child. He's overly confident. Immediately after our first attempt, he looked me in the eye and stated simply, "Well, now you're pregnant."
Uh, well, OK then. Let me just tell my ovaries. Planning For Kids Is Futile
I've found that there is a gaping chasm between how men and women approach parenthood. While most moms compete over parenting skills, the men I know compete over conception skills. It's why when a pregnant woman goes flying toward the nearest bathroom, the men in the room smirk proudly at the impending father. They gather 'round to clap him on the back while the future mother cradles the toilet.
Guys want to hit a home run at every at bat. And it seems that the superstitions that surround sports apply to conception as well. Soon, David is going to be drinking raw eggs for breakfast and refusing to shave until after we've conceived.
My father has also asked for another grandchild for Christmas. What with all of these high expectations from the men in my life, I'm starting to feel more than a little pressure. Is There A Perfect Time To Get Pregnant?
But it will happen. I'm sure. Something in my bones has been telling me for months that we'll add a baby to our family right before Christmas.
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And if I don't get pregnant then?
There's a good chance I'll be the one urging David to wear his lucky socks.