My husband is to blame for my coffee addiction. It started with fluffy, girlie, barely-even-coffee-more-like-pure-sugar drinks when we would hang out at Caribou Coffee before we were married. Then, with the snazzy coffee pot we got as a wedding gift, I started having a cup or two a week, definitely not every morning.

During my first pregnancy I didn't even drink decaff.

During my second pregnancy I didn't drink regular (most of the time).

During my third pregnancy I didn't drink more than a cup a day. For my afternoon pick-me-up, I switched to black tea.

If I'm so blessed to have another pregnancy, I will stick to my previous limit (how noble of me), but it will be painful.

Initially, every cup required, for my sensitive palate, at least 2 teaspoons of sugar. I thought I was really making progress when I dropped it to one.

Last night, I hit a milestone. I think I have arrived (almost) as a real coffee drinker. I took my coffee with only milk.

Next stop: black.

I'm so impressed with myself. All this thanks to my husband's influence (and the need to cope with the demands of small children and sleep deprivation). I'm pretty sure God really created coffee for mothers.