Our sixth and final child was certainly a surprise.  Five kids was our perfect plan.  After all, if you’re going to count your children, it just seems natural to only have to use one hand in the process.  In our minds, we had kind of met our quota.  Five kids were enough for any family and certainly enough for the financial budget of the Shaw Clan.  We had spent every moment of the previous seven years with at least one of us holding a child in our arms and we were ready to finally be done. 
 
As Landon, our youngest, month after month older, we would find ourselves counting down:  only three more months til’ no more bottles, only two more months of baby food,  only one more month until we have a sex life again!  Then the shocker happened.  My wife became pregnant with our sixth. 
 
Sex life out the window again!
 
We were distraught to say the least.  We had plans!  We went through all of the stages of grief: anger, denial, milkshakes, crying with Oprah, ect.  My perfect starting five for the b-ball team was now going to have a substitute. 
 
Then Sullivan came and something unexpected happened.  Before we found out about Sullivan, we assumed we could just wait three months for the next bit of precious freedom to be returned to Mom and Dad.  After Sullivan arrived, we assumed we could no longer assume anything.  It is the assumption of complete and utter chaos. 
 
The good news is that it is just then, as all hope of a predictable future is lost, when the most wonderful gift of an unexpected child finally arrives.  That gift is the realization that you are given the choice to either be miserable every moment, never knowing when the next reprieve will come, or to accept that the reprieve may never come and instead enjoy all of the glorious seconds in between.