And Baby Makes Six

When I married Brandon, I realized that I was marrying into various conditions; I would be living around the world, I would have to put up with Homestar Runner on a regular basis, I would have to develop some interest in politics, and I was going to have a large family.  None of these conditions were imposed by Brandon, they were simply unalterable truths that were simply there, take them or leave them.

And so, nobody who knows us should be surprised that we're adding another child to our family.  We, of course, are excited.  The children aren't sure what to think, but last time I checked they don't have much say in those matters anyway.

Timing of children is always a personal matter, and before I was married, I thought it was a subject for deep personal reflection and divine inspiration.  Then I got married, and I realized that the romance wasn't quite what the movies portrayed it to be - it was mostly a matter of looking at each other, counting how long it had been since the last one, and deciding that it was time again.

And then we joined the Foreign Service.  Now there is absolutely no romance, replaced instead by pure, calculating logistics.  Since most of the countries we'll live in have abysmal medical care, any planning for a child has to take into account the three months of necessary medevac to the US.  And I don't like being separated from Brandon.  

The planning for this one commenced at least nine months ago, with various schemes and plans for when the baby would be born vis-a-vis home leave, my family's annual beach trip, and our departure for the next post.  

So when we were assigned to Baku with eleven months of language training, a lot of the logistics cleared themselves up.  It would have been pure foolishness not to take advantage of living in the US to have a child.  So call it what you will - use of a good opportunity, taking advantage of the needs of the service, or welcoming a new child into our family, we're excited.