It was late summer in Colorado, and I’d spent the last few months exhausted. But like the “good mom I was trying to be,” I would walk to our community pool with Titus, who was 18 months at the time, at least once a week. Michael, my husband, had been giving me a hard time lately, “Why aren’t you taking him to the pool more?” as I was a stay-at-home mom, and Titus begged me almost every day to walk him to the pool to swim. (He was a pretty cute kid and could puppy-dog-eyes like the best of them!) But I was exceedingly tired until it dawned on me, “I think I’m pregnant!”

I remember how giddy I was and how many pregnancy tests I had taken to share the news with Michael. I’d painted “I’m a Big Brother” on one of Titus’ favorite green onesies and prepared a “pregnancy test bouquet” (thanks, Pinterest; but it's so weird now that I’m typing it) to surprise Michael.