I discovered we were going to be a family of four because I like to drink wine. Less than a month after I stopped breastfeeding, we went on vacation to California, and since it had been approximately, oh, a gajillion years (alright, 16.5 months) since I had drunk anything stronger than mint tea, I was filled with joy at the prospect of wine and the drinking of it being on the horizon.
Oh, and was there wine and the drinking of it. What a glorious, glorious 10 days those were - days of wine tasting, wine drinking, wine guzzling. It was a vacation filled with lovely, grapey goodness.
And then we came home. And I thought that, clearly, since I was enjoying drinking, that there was probably a very good reason why I shouldn't be doing it. (Because I am Catholic, and guilt often trumps logic, I often think this way.) So I bought a pregnancy test. I bought three, to be precise.
Took one. Nothing. Sweet! Wine with dinner it is!
Took another. Nothing. Awesome! Again, wine with dinner.
Took the third. Started laughing really hard. Milk with dinner.
It was a really lovely 15 days, wine. Thanks for the memories.
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