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I should have known on our seventh anniversary date. I bit into a plump steak only to gag and grimace at the horrible flavor. Bill (trying to be sweet and romantic) traded me his seafood alfredo and ate the dirty tasting steak. It turned out that Bill's dish had an odd after taste too, but the "from the box" mashed potatoes (which I do not favor) went down the hatch with ease.

I should have known when I was tired and unmotivated to lift my lounging self from the couch. But, alas! perhaps I was just too tired to think or too scared to dream.

But two weeks after reading that plus sign on that pregnancy test, I'm starting to believe it (fatigue and nausea sure do help adding to reality:). Assisting God in the making of a miracle isn't exactly an easy task nor is it something one can complain about (and I sure don't want to get stuck out in the wilderness for whining about blessings from heaven). I must say, I'm quite fond of the idea of snuggling and kissing another little Love. If there's a little uncomfortable streak in my nice, cushy existence to get there, then so be it. After all, pregnancy doesn't last forever and in the end (should all go delightfully well) we'll get another little piece of heaven.

So if my blog gets neglected a bit, it's because the couch is just so cozy:)