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and dining my Microsoft cohort, my period came. The next morning I tearfully told my mother that I was indeed not pregnant, and asked if she could bear eating breakfast with her barren daughter. Hormones can do such crazy things to a person.

Jared took six months of practice' until God decided we had him right. You never feel quite ready to bring a child into the world, but we felt we had waited a respectable amount of time. We realized marriage was indeed until death do we part, and thought we could perhaps make it that far without bringing arsenic into the mix. We felt stable enough that this simple act of creating another mouth to feed wouldn't put us out on the streets.

I was so excited that the "What To Expect When You Are Expecting" book which details each month of pregnancy wasn't enough. I found a book that explained it week by week. If there had been a book on the market explaining the microscopic growth that the fetus experienced each day, I would have bought that too.

My pregnancy was fantastic. My skin glowed, I had awesome hair. I could eat whatever I wanted with only one lecture from my OB/GYN on the difference between a bowl of broccoli and a bowl of ice cream. My feet swelled only once. I never had morning sickness. I craved pears and avocados.

The only remote problem was my soon to be son decided he was coming out feet first. Anyone who knows the kid now understands this would be the only logical way he could enter the world on his feet and ready to roll. He's an amazing athlete, as are my other two sons. If I hadn't been present at their births, I would not have believed that I, the woman who can not walk and chew gum at the same time, the woman who has actually tripped on her own shoelaces while jogging in place, could create natural born athletes like my sons.

Now, in order to cut down on cesarean sections, doctors perform something called a version when the baby is breach. They relax the uterus so they can turn the baby the way he or she should be, face first to great the world. The doctors get you all excited by telling you to pack your bags just in case the uterus decides to give up and get rid of the thing altogether. We could only hope that something would go wrong and we could hold our baby that much sooner.

When we got to the hospital, it was completely packed. Every room was taken with screaming, writhing mothers-to-be. Even the operating room was being prepped for some poor woman who had been pushing for years, and was finally consenting

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