In the three weeks since I last blogged, I’ve put myself in hiding.  Come out of the Secret Annexe, yes, finished that project and thought I would be gearing up for many more little ones. Instead I’ve closed my blinds, curled up on my couch, sat in my bathtub, and climbed under the fall quilt on my bed.

I’ve been hiding.  Because sometimes there are no words to express these feelings.  Or rather, there are words I am afraid to write because I can’t believe I actually feel this way.

So I couldn’t blog.  I just couldn’t.  Not until I was a little more ready to put out in blogsphere just how difficult it has been for me to adjust to news that most greet with joy and enthusiasm or, at the very least, resolve.

I’ve had little of those emotions but rather fear, anxiety, anger, and depression.  But mostly disbelief that God really wants me to do this again.

Pregnancy.  All day long nausea and exhaustion and short temper and I already feel like there’s never enough to go around to the three I have and now I’m supposed to love and nurture and raise another?

We weren’t trying.  Far from it.  We’re the .01% chance drug companies list to avoid lawsuits.  Because it rarely happens.  But it happened to me.  And I cried for a week.

And I went into hiding.  “Survivor’s guilt” my friend called it today.  That I could be given this gift when others aren’t and I am so undeserving and underqualified.

And ashamed.  Because we had so many plans.  Big ten year anniversary get away.  Lots of summer activities for big girls and a toddler.  Trying to start a new career.

But this was not in my plans.  And I’m trying to get used to the change.  And the nausea.

I’m struggling.  But I think, maybe, I can’t hide forever.  And I miss my blog.  So I’ll be back in full-swing soon and won’t always subject you to the crazy ramblings of a preggo.