Oops. A Woman in her Thirties Does it Again

I don't like surprises. I can say that after having a lot of experience with them. I like being able to compose myself before any given situation; I like to feel like I have the slightest bit of control. Surprise me, and you're likely to find me a heaping mess of emotion on the floor. (It's true-- just ask my girls who threw me a surprise party before moving to China. I'm still recovering.)

It was this past Halloween and my period was late. The thought did not occur to me to take a pregnancy test (including the miscarriage, it took more than a year to get pregnant with Anna), but I figured I had better since our neighborhood block party was promising beer, and a woman in her thirties should always be sure. But there is no way, I thought to myself.

Way.

And here we are, at week twelve. Over the all day sickness (Seriously- who thought of the term 'morning sickness'? Must have been a dude.) But still not over the shock. And then, yesterday, a waving arm; a beating heart:

And a little bit of something that may or may not be an actual something:
And now-- finally-- the shock is starting to wear off. I'm happy, I'm scared, I'm excited, I'm completely overwhelmed, but mostly I'm finally feeling thankful. A woman in her thirties can't control everything. And sometimes, in those times when she can't, the most miraculous of surprises can appear.