Holy Cow!

I've been thinking that a lot lately. I thought it first on June 25th at 3 in the morning (I was up early because of jet lag, having just returned from Italy the evening before) when I took a pregnancy test and it was positive.

Holy Cow.

And then another that was also positive.

Holy Cow!

Alex took the news much more calmly than I. He's more of a That's Great! kind of guy.

So I made a doctor appointment for a couple of weeks later. The appointment was yesterday morning. The doctor (who, by the way, worked with E.O. Wilson on the mangrove island experiments) took this Doppler thing and held it to my tummy and said "There's the heartbeat--you're about 12-13 weeks along I'd say."

Holy Cow! HOLY COW!

Yep, I've been pregnant for nigh on three months and didn't figure it out until less than a month ago. I always thought those stories about women not knowing they were pregnant were so ridiculous--what kind of idiot wouldn't know they were pregnant? Well, now I know what kind, and you all do too.

So, there you have it, there's a mini Mettlinger on the way. I'm going to go out on a limb and predict that this baby will be one tough bugger--I mean, it's already trained for a marathon and gone tramping through Italy, and next weekend it's running 28 miles during the 3-day Great Lakes Relay. Plus, the due date was estimated, out of the clear blue sky, at January 17th. The only other person I know that was born on January 17th, my dad, was pretty damn amazing...