Worship pastor called today to check on us, make sure we were home and I was okay. I called him Sunday morning to tell him we were on our way home from our 36-hour vacation-that-was-not-a-vacation. Told him at that time what had been going on with me and we weren't sure if it was viral or some common bile duct thing, but we were on our way home and would appreciate prayers for a good trip. He said as he told the choir on Sunday evening he got quizzical looks from several altos and it suddenly dawned on him, "Gina only has these issues when she's pregnant!" And soooo...."Is there anything you need to tell us? T... is standing here waiting for me to tell her what you say."
Is "I was fertile while we were at the in-laws but (a) since we had two kids in bed with us on the first night and (b) I was barfing my guts up the second so there's no chance that I might even get that way any time soon" an appropriate answer for the worship pastor? Well, considering I was talking to Todd, yes - that would've normally been an acceptable answer; however, I decided to spare him The Details. "No. Not a chance at all and I'd really like to get through Annie's first birthday AND have a vehicle into which we can safely strap #4 before we add her to the pack." Yes, "her" - we only make girls. Hasn't Brad told everyone that? Lots of other reasons, and really much better ones than that, for waiting to add #4. If we add #4.
But all that to say - no, these GI issues have nothing to do with pregnancy. And amazingly, stomach viruses always seem to go hand-in-hand with pregnancy in this house, too. Stay away. Stay far, far away. Do not pass Brad in the hall. Do not step over his underwear. Do not stray onto his side of the bed.
Certainly not that last one. I'm *never* on his side of the bed unless...well, never mind.
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