Back in March or April, Andrés and I decided that our plan to have a second baby when Alliclaus turned two was not a wise decision. I had, prior to that point, thought that my employer would be bringing me on full-time (20 at work and 20 at home) and that I would, therefore, be fully covered for a second pregnancy.

Well, that kind of fell through and we decided that it would be better to wait. After all, my employer's still toying with the idea. I'd hate to get benefits around week 20 and not be covered for the pregnancy.

It's the right decision. There was even a little part of me that was relieved. After all, it isn't as though my first pregnancy was easy. And Alliclaus is in a weird stage right now. And financial stuff could be easier.

This is what I keep telling myself.

The truth is, though, that the closer I get to July (when we had planned to start trying), the sadder I feel about the decision. And I'm not really sure why.

If you see me blogging about babies, don't jump the gun. I promise I'll tell you when we're actually pregnant, and it won't be for awhile. Until then, I'll just be daydreaming.

By the way, how late in a pregnancy can you fly? Sarah's wedding is next July. When's my drop-dead date to conceive and still be able to make it to San Diego?

Obsessing? Perhaps.