Flashback Friday - 29 Year Ago

Joining Ann's Flashback Friday again and this one was truly a flashback.

On Jan. 1, 1980 I got my period. Trust me, I just remember that happened on exactly that day. And I had not thought about it for quite some time until last weekend when I had a flashback to that day:

I was still breastfeeding my 6 month old, but over the holidays had decided to start her on some bottles to allow me to be away from her for short periods of time. So I had not had a period for 15 months and then suddenly on new years day I did. And then I promptly forgot about it. I was too busy with a 6 year old and a 6 month old to give it any thought. So, about 6 or 8 weeks later I was talking to Aunt Ruby, who lived next door, and mentioned that I was not feeling that well. She said "you aren't pregnant are you?" I was flabbergasted that she would suggest such a thing, never mind that she has 6 kids and might have a clue.

After some thought though I decided that I should make a doctor appointment with my OB. Keep in mind that back then women were not trusted to handle any kind of health issues on their own, so there were no home pregnancy kits. And I just had that sinking feeling by then. I knew.

I must have taken K to school and left the baby with Ruby. I just remember walking out of the doctor's office and there was Mr. RainbowCreek, standing by the door. He had parked his work truck in the hospital delivery zone and taken a break to wait for me. I know I must have had a look of dread on my face. I just couldn't imagine how we would cope with another baby. Money was tight, we were stretched to the limit. But when I told him, yes, it was positive, he just smiled and gave me this big hug. That is when he told me he never wanted two kids. He thought three would be much better. I guess I will never forget that moment. And of course he was right, three was much better, I can't imagine our family without Matty Fatty and all his escapades. He was his daddy's nemesis, and still is, he is my mama's boy, and K's bad boy baby brother and the Tattooed Mama's best friend forever.

Last weekend we were planning a long day with Mo and baby Carter, while the Tattooed Mama and The Tattooed Daddy were supposed to be out looking for a new truck. They showed up early to pick up the kids, I told them that they were back too soon and Mo was going to be mad because she wanted to stay for a long long time at our house. I really thought she was joking when she announced that they had to trade in her car for a bigger car because they couldn't fit 3 car seats in the Audi. I actually laughed at her because I didn't believe her when she said "you're going to have another grandbaby." But then I saw that look on her face. I know it was the same look I must have had 29 years ago. And I could honestly say to her, "I know exactly how you feel. And I know that everything is going to be fine."

Because 3 is better than 2 if it was just meant to be. And there is always enough room in our hearts for one more. We don't know who this little person is yet, but I know he or she will be super special and so loved. What else matters?