And then good luck, it finally struck, like lightning from the blue ...

Ironically, this is the post I have been hoping and praying to make for more than a year, and I am having a hard time putting it into words. Still, I always knew those lyrics, from Survivor's "The Search is Over," would be the title. I always knew that, eventually, lightning would strike, because, after all, I'm a survivor. (And that's to say nothing about the fact that I lost my job last week.)

And it has.

I'm pregnant.

After two years of trying, a miscarriage, enough pregnancy tests that I really should have bought them in bulk, two trips to Vegas, and endless tears, I got pregnant in September, love affair with Nyquil aside. (Most people will remember I spent the greater part of the month hacking and moaning, and not in a sexy way, either.)

It was a huge surprise to both of us. (Chris' exact words, on the night of October 4, once he picked his jaw up off the floor: "We didn't even try that hard ... Go me!")

I am now 10.5 weeks along. I was cleared as being out of the woods for another loss after an ultrasound this week (the chances are less than 3 percent at this point), and I am due on June 10, 2009, two weeks before our third wedding anniversary. We're cautiously optimistic that come early summer, we will have our little Truffle, as seen here in this very poor picture of a picture because I couldn't find the scanner cord, and almost cried. (The head is the left, and the feet are the right.)

Unlike last time, I can eat. (Just not Indian, Thai, anything spicy, and, apparently, pie.) Bring me lemonade and I'll love you. Bring me macaroni and cheese, and I'll really love you. Be warned that I may cry if you bring me either. I am sick every morning, but the queasiness isn't nearly as bad as last time, and it should let up in a few weeks. Even so, it's a small price to pay, and so is my constant insomnia and fatigue.

Ah, the irony: Spend the greater portion of a month planning a baby shower ... and end up with a baby on the way.

That's my kind of irony.

And now, please excuse me, because I have to go throw up.