Then he brought Abram outside and said, “Look up at the sky and count the stars if you think you can count them.” He continued, “This is how many children you will have.”

Genesis 15:5

The funny thing about having a rather large mouth that likes to spout off—on its own accord, without the benefit of brain cells to guide it—is that eventually you will have to eat your words.

You see, my sister (owner of this blog and commonly referred to as Lucy because she leaves fires, floods, and other disasters in her wake) found out rather unexpectedly that she was pregnant with her second child before her first was a year old. That meant her oldest would be 20 months when the new baby was born. Not to pass up an opportunity to incessantly mock her (it is my duty as her younger sibling after all), I spent a few months teasing her about being perpetually pregnant.

My husband and I tried for two years to have our first child and were told it would most likely never happen. After having our daughter, who we refer to as our miracle baby, we were content. Imagine my surprise when I found out that I am due to have Baby #2 in a few months, when said miracle baby will be 18-months old. Talk about perpetually pregnant! Apparently my need to keep up with my older sister even translates into child bearing.

My dear sister is not one to just let this sort of thing slide, especially in light of how much I mocked her, so I have endured months upon months of teasing and ridicule.

I feel like I really haven’t given my body a chance to rest or even forget about the trauma … ahem … I mean blessing of giving birth to my daughter (I won’t go into the glorious details just in case there is a member of the male species reading or one of you has just eaten).

Currently, I am 6 months pregnant, have had a cold for two solid weeks and, to be quite honest, feel like the dog poop you step in and then have to scrape off your shoe all the while muttering about dog owners and the poop and scoop policy. I mean, diapers are bad enough. I can’t wait to meet this baby whom we have affectionately nicknamed Guido and not be pregnant anymore. Ever. Amen.

I know there may be some out there that don’t have kids or are struggling to have kids and you are silently cursing me and telling me to stop complaining and count my blessings. Trust me, I have been there (minus the cursing of course—can’t you see my halo?). You are absolutely right and I will count my blessings, just as soon as I can count my toes!