With each of the boys I can pinpoint exactly when they were conceived. I'm eight/nine weeks away from delivering Annabelle, and I'm still trying to figure out how exactly she got here. I am pretty sure my dear, sweet, mischievous Uncle Ken had a hand in it because I found out about Annabelle shortly after he crossed through the pearly gates of heaven. If you knew my Uncle Ken, you'd understand why I'm sure this was his doing. He was never content unless he was "picking" on someone and making them smile. I'm pretty sure he's up in heaven right now laughing his trademark laugh every time I look at my giant belly, and wonder exactly how that happened.
The question of when it happened still remains. Or at least it did until this afternoon. We had stopped at our biggest customer's house for Sam to set his timer, and the customer asked when we got the minivan. Last time we saw him, I still had the Honda Pilot. Sam said he couldn't remember, and asked me how long we'd had it. As I was rubbing my belly, the answer became perfectly clear. We'd had the van for almost 31 weeks exactly. I remembered because as we were signing the papers, Sam looked at me and said, "now don't you go and get any ideas about filling this thing up". Oddly enough, I found out I was pregnant with Annabelle a few weeks later. So now I'm convinced I got pregnant with Annabelle while sitting in the middle of a used car lot buying a minivan. Turns out you shouldn't tempt God unless you've had a hysterectomy and a vasectomy. Especially if your favorite Uncle, who loves practical jokes, has just found his way into heaven with a lot of extra time on his hands.
-A Memory Made
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