TICK. . TICK. . TICK. . TICK. .

Let's talk timing. 

No, not the incessant ticking of your biological clock.  I'm a Tomboy.  My clock is broken.  For me, baby-making was a logical decision.  Really.

So, timing has influence on many womens' pregnancies.  There are several that I took into account. . .  .

Work Timing
Some of my teacher friends planned their pregnancies around their school years.  For me, however, my crazy resides in a marked busy season.  In my office, we typically go Chernobyl crazy from mid January through March (maybe longer).  Per the chicks in my office, I had be knocked up by mid May to enjoy the hiatus from the madness. 

Ding!  Done!

Weather Timing
Despite being raised in Puerto Rico in my youth and then the nasty humidity of St Louis, I cannot stand the heat.  I would rather freeze myself to a sleepy death than swelter one more moment in unrelenting waves of gross.  I think you can always get warm.  You can't take off any more clothing than you put on - despite seriously considering peeling off layers of skin.  So, I knew that there wasn't a chance in Hell that I could handle being ginormously pregnant through the hottest months - July, August and September.  Can you imagine the damage I would do trying to sit in the grocery store freezers?

Ding!  Done!

So far, I feel like the timing has been all but perfect. . . sans one tiny mishap.  Two days before my rampant stick-peeing began, I refilled my tampon supply in grand form.  I'm talking credit card-destroying, truck-bed-filling, tonnage-moving, Sam's Club-stock-depleting, every color and size arraying. . . it was big.  Yeah.  Now I'm not going to use them.  For a long, LONG time.  Maybe it's still perfect.