Growing up in a family of five kids, Catholic no less, having children of my own was something that was sort of assumed.  Heck, my Mom and her seven sisters had 45 children between them.  (Doing the math, yep, that means 45 first cousins on my Mom’s side – and 45 of the kindest and friendliest people you will ever meet.)

So while I assumed I would have kids, I never spent days imagining kids.  For that matter, I never really imagined getting married, no dreams of walking down the aisle in an over-priced wedding gown.  Those thoughts didn’t surface