The Story

Hmmm. Where to begin.

So, it's no secret that I've been wanting another baby. As Ryan outgrew his babyhood, I went through pangs and fits of desperate longing for another baby. Ryan was an easy baby. He was a dream. Everything was wonderful and dreamlike. More likely, things were not so wonderful BUT I had wanted him for so long that I was definitely viewing his babyhood through happy-tinted lenses.

My husband was not quite on board. In fact, he made it pretty clear that he was not ready for a third baby. And the likelihood of one in the future was uncertain. It was hard to accept "maybe." I wanted to know. Am I putting my longings on hold temporarily? Or indefinitely? I needed to know for peace of mind. Assurances never came.

I decided not to press the issue for a while. Timing wasn't that great anyway. I'm only a temporary employee. I could lose my job any day. Ryan is still in diapers, and likely will be for another year. I'm still paying off Ryan's labor and delivery bills ($3,800 left!). Our house is spaciously challenged. In my ideal world, I would somehow find a way to get pregnant in about 12 months.

These feelings were solidified four weeks ago, when out of the blue, Ryan decided to stop sleeping well. He refused to take naps (still does). SOMETIMES I can get him to nap but only if I lay next to him. He refused to go to bed without a fit (still does). He started waking up in the middle of the night begging to sleep in bed with us. In bed, he kicks and claws us all night in his sleep. I realized that I do not handle his sleep troubles well. Interrupted sleep makes me angry and grumpy and NOT a nice person. I decided I was not yet ready to share my nighttimes with another human.

So, of course, as soon as I decided to wait to raise the baby issue, I found myself pregnant. By my calculations, I'm only 4 weeks along. I have absolutely no symptoms. What compelled me to randomly take a pregnancy test yesterday is still a little bit of a mystery. I just felt...weird. Something did not feel normal and I can't explain it any more than that. Also, the end of last week, I started to look "poofy." When I glanced in the mirror, I felt 3-4 months pregnant. I have no idea if this "poof" is pregnancy-related or not- it's way too early to show. But I became suddenly paranoid that maybe I was one of those stories of women who do not find out they are pregnant until they popped out a baby. Although I knew it wasn't physically possible, I had convinced myself maybe I WAS 3 months pregnant and didn't know it! A woman's brain is a crazy place to be sometimes.

On a whim, I grabbed a pregnancy test while I was grocery shopping. I gave myself a pep talk as I wandered towards the grocery store bathroom (who has patience to wait until they get home?!). I repeated to myself, "It will be negative. When it is, don't be sad." And I believed it too.

I took a test and slowly, so-so-slowly, the positive line appeared as faint as could be. Was I imaging this?! I did not believe it. Literally. I marched right back into the store and bought another test. I made sure it was a different brand. A two-pack this time. (When it comes to pregnancy tests, I'm a little OCD). In the very same bathroom stall, I got TWO MORE faint positive test results. The only thing going through my brain as I walked to my car was "What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?"

And, despite the pep talk I had given myself earlier, I was sad. But I was sad because it was positive. There were just too many emotions to process. I was shocked. I didn't believe it. I felt unprepared. It had taken 13 months of actively trying to get pregnant with Ryan. I was convinced I was in store for a similar fate this next time around. What would my husband say? I was deathly afraid to tell him. There was a tiny hint of happiness lurking among those feelings as well. It was just overwhelmed by all the other things going through my brain.

Perplexed, I drove home and cried. I couldn't tell my husband that night. I was too afraid. We had been getting along so well lately. I didn't want to rock the boat. It took all of today for me to get the courage to finally tell him. And I did it in a very wimpy, pathetic kind of way. I couldn't find the right moment. And when I did find a good moment, I began to have an anxiety attack. My heart felt like it was pounding irregularly. Words would not come.

Finally, as he was wiping up the dining room table, where I was sitting, I leaned forward and whispered, "would you be mad......" I paused, our eyes caught. His big brown eyes had no idea what was coming. "If I said I was pregnant?" I couldn't even wait to see his reaction. I immediately set my head down (face first) on the table. Tears started to fill my eyes as my hair draped around my face, providing the perfect cover. All I heard was, "Are you joking? This is a joke? Are you serious?" His voice was not mean. It was gentle. But he was clearly surprised and not necessarily happy.

"No," I assured him. "I'm not joking."

He looked at me and sighed a heavy sigh. As he exhaled, I heard so many things. They were things I had been hearing in my own head for the past 24 hours. His sigh was saying "Are you sure?" "Is this real? "How is this possible?" "Where are we going to put a third baby?" "How will we afford this?" "What is our life going to look like?" "Are we ready?" "Can we handle this?" "Did you trick me somehow?!"

But all his voice said was, "We'll see." And then he walked away to the bathroom.

Having finally put it into words and having taken two more pregnancy tests, it is starting to slowly become reality. Excitement is starting to outweigh the other feelings.