Timing is Everything

As most people are aware, timing is a very important key to life. When working out the timing of delivering a baby and going to the hospital, everyone is generally happier with the latter occurring before the former. Those who sold their stocks before a certain day in 1929 were much happier than those who sold them after that date. And parents are generally happier when marriage comes before a baby in the baby carriage.

This week, Brandon and I learned what happens when timing doesn't go your way. The Sunday we departed from Missouri, we arose to discover Brandon's brother sleeping in the family room, unhappily nursing an unfortunate mixing bowl. Everyone stayed very clear of the family room, went to church, and then hightailed out of Missouri, thanking our stars that the blow had fallen before we could also become infected.

However, we thanked too soon. Fate caught up with my stomach two hours outside of Omaha, our stop for the night, and our happy reunion with Brandon's older brother, pregnant wife, and four children, was happy for everyone but me. This time I was the pariah, as no pregnant mother of four needs even more chaos introduced into her life.

So after not nearly enough sleep, we woke early and got our infectious selves out of town as Brandon was showing symptoms of the mysterious illness, compounded with sleep deprivation. Sophia joined company with malodorous presents in her diapers in Wyoming, and everyone was ready to throw everyone else out of the car by Little America. As my pediatrician commented the next day when hearing of our drive, 'Wyoming is one endless desert.'

Fifteen and a half hours after leaving Omaha, we limped into Springville (listening to our new CD player which was installed after the old one died eight tracks into Dune), and went to bed. After having both gone through childbirth and driven twenty-one hours in a car with my children, sick, I have decided that I would have rather spent that time giving birth (with an epidural, of course). If I fall asleep during childbirth, no cars are driven off I-80, killing everyone inside.