Rolling with Life’s Punches: Round 3


There are days when life decides to punch you right in the stomach. The uterus, in fact. 

Jennifer, this is not the type of thing you learn in the bathroom at Wal-Mart!!


Earlier that day, I was at home — and for whatever reason — I took the mildewy, old pregnancy test in the back of the cabinet I was cleaning and thought, “what the heck, why not take it? Not like it’s going to be positive or anything…” 

A pee and 3 minutes later brought two lines into the results window. 

My heart fell into my stomach, and my breath caught in my throat. I was doubled over. Maybe this was a mistake. Wait – this thing expired in 2014. No. This is clearly wrong. (nervous laugh)

Google: How accurate are expired pregnancy tests? 
Reply: Often the chemical utilized to detect the pregnancy hormone is no longer effective, resulting in a false negative. 

False Negative. 

Oh boy. 

Press Play

As a mom, the day must continue: drop off the kids, then to the oil change appointment… They told me it was going to take awhile and that the driver could take me somewhere while I was waiting. 

Hello Wal-Mart. I marched straight to the pregnancy tests and grabbed the clearest one possible — the ones that say the words, “pregnant” or “not pregnant” on them. Then it was off to the register at the very back of the store, right across from the bathrooms. I paid, walked across to the ladies room, and there it was, clear as day. 


I had a sharp intake of breath. It’s not that I wasn’t happy or didn’t appreciate the blessing, but I was stunned. We had been playing the whole, “if it happens, it happens” type thing, but had given ourselves until the end of December before discussing permanent contraception options…It was January 4. 

On Repeat

Lately, the boys had been more trying than ever, I was finally sleeping full nights, and we were almost out of diapers with my youngest. I had already decided I was okay with my two boys. The baby clothes and strollers had made their way to the garage, and were already in the pile of items for donation. I think with the shock came more from the stunned realization that it was really going to happen again. 

Square one. 

I’m supposed to only feel excitement and joy, right? But at that moment I felt like there were so many new things to worry about. Another car seat, perhaps a bigger vehicle, how to reconfigure the house to accommodate another child, more doctor bills, more daycare bills…

It’s daunting. It’s scary. It’s anxiety-inducing. It felt like a punch in the gut.


It’s okay to be scared, I told myself. We can do this. I can do this. We can roll with this. There will be enough of a gap between the new little one (Lentil – as I have begun to call him/her) and and my older two that it will be different. Both boys will already be in school by the time Lentil gets into daycare, which means only one daycare bill. Both boys will be potty trained, which means only one set of diapers this go-round. It will all be okay. 

End of the Tape

Then, another realization: this will be our last.

Our last sessions of breastfeeding, our last diapers to change, our last night feedings. No more chubby fists clutching at my breast, while bright, beautiful eyes look up at me, as I nourish this sweet child. No more laughing at diaper changing mishaps. No more tired —yet beautiful — nights cradling and soothing a newborn, its downy head nuzzling up against my cheek. 

It will be hard, but it will be beautiful.


It will all be beautiful. It’s so much more than a punch that I have to roll with.

This precious little life is a gift. 

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Jennifer is the lucky mother of three boys, Dean (3) and Dante (2) (yup, back to back), and Diego (2 months). So life normally resembles either a crazed, juice-fueled dance party, or a giggle powered wrestling match. When she is not prowling around the house like a t-rex she teaches high school AP Social Studies, coaches UIL and is a self proclaimed "fit-ish mom" (translation: food is heaven, but the gym is therapy.) She grew up in Edinburg, and is a graduate of Florida State University with a degree in Political Science and Theater. After college, she bounced to Los Angeles where she began acting, print modeling, and worked for a high profile mortuary. After about 5 years she came back to her roots in the RGV, met her incredibly sweet husband, and the rest, as they say, is history.



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