Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Once Again

Right around two years ago, I was in early pregnancy with Jack. Despite the fact that he was this miracle natural conception after two years of infertility, Bobby and I somehow got on the subject of our "other, future children." As if having them was going to be easy. And we'd get to choose when and how.

I think it was Dr. G who casually asked during one of my early appointments if this would be our only child, or if we'd want others. I sort of laughed it off at the time (polite smile, shoulder shrug, casual indifference: "We might like another someday, but we're happy with this one right now.") Dr. G then said that a lot of women say that, but then somewhere around six months, when their baby starts looking less like a baby a more like a child, they get baby fever and want another.

I told this to Bobby. I said I had my doubts, especially because pregnancy was totally kicking my butt at the time. But I also made him promise, that no matter what I said or thought I wanted at sixth months postpartum, we were NOT going to have another baby that soon.

At my six-week postpartum checkup, Dr. G and I had the birth control talk. I almost laughed out loud when he asked what we were currently using for birth control. Uh, how about a baby that never sleeps? Nipples that feel like they’ve been run through a paper shredder? The endless bottles and pump parts that need washing? Or how about that massive incision and Frankenstein stiches across my stomach!?! Instead, I politely said, “We plan to use condoms.” He said, “Great,” and we all moved on. 

At six months postpartum, Jack was not sleeping. Like, ever. I did not get baby fever. Bobby asked about it briefly, and we decided we’d assess the second kid situation when Jack turned one.

That ended up being a very brief conversation. Bobby asked my thoughts, and I said that while I did want Jack to have a sibling, I wasn’t ready. I had been pregnant for nine months. I breastfed for a year. I needed a little time for my body to just be my own. I was finally feeling like I was hitting my stride with motherhood. We were having more good days than bad. Jack was fun. He was walking and running and climbing. It was getting nice outside, and I was excited to start jogging with him in the stroller. I was excited to take him to the park. I was excited to go to the beach and get out his kiddie pool. I just wasn’t ready to be pregnant.

But then a few months passed. I started seeing pregnancy announcements from many of the moms who were pregnant the same time as I was with Jack. I started feeling left behind. I started having those infertility doubts—what if it takes us another two years? Shouldn’t we start now then? Shouldn’t we have another baby while ours is still “baby-ish”? While we still sort of remember what it’s like to have a newborn. Before Jack is totally done with naps and wanting to be out and on the go all the time. Before I’m 30 and my back is so damaged it could never support another pregnancy.

So a few months ago, we stopped using condoms. My periods were regular, 28-day cycles. I wasn’t temping or charting or using OPKs. We were doing this the real old fashioned way. We dared to think that we were normal.

At the beginning of September, right around when my period was due, Bobby and I both got sick. Like, sinus infections, flu, allergies, anything else you could throw at us at the same time sick. We begged my parents to take Jack for three hours on a Saturday so we could just sleep and relax. Because, oh yeah, Jack somehow skipped being one and jumped head first into terrible twos (soooooo much whining!!!). I was so worried I was pregnant. I lay on the couch begging my period to come. Repeating to Bobby over and over that I could not do this. I could not handle being this sick and having ONE kid. There was no way I could do this with two.

Mercifully, my period showed up the next day. I have never been so thrilled to be in so much pain.

We recovered from the sickness from hell, but forgot to buy more condoms. I don’t even know how to write this next part. I think my infertility card is officially going to revoked. I’m—once again—that girl. The girl that after having one baby is somehow fertile. So fertile, that in a month where she had unprotected sex exactly twice, without monitoring any sort of ovulation, managed to get pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

Somewhere around five weeks.

I’m not totally sure how I feel about it yet.

I’m excited about the idea. I do want another baby, please don’t get me wrong. But I have reservations. I’m nervous because I know how much I hated being pregnant. I’m not looking forward to morning sickness kicking in and lasting for 17 weeks. I’m not excited about the pregnancy rhinitis that sucked the life out of me last time around. I’m worried about how my back is going to hold up. I’m nervous about another c-section recovery—this time with a two-year-old. I’m equally nervous about attempting a VBAC. I’m worried about how this is going to affect Jack.

Part of me is still really pessimistic. I’ve been urging Bobby to not get to excited until at least after the 7-week ultrasound. I’ll feel better after hearing the heartbeat at 12 weeks. I wasn’t careful this time. I haven’t been taking prenatal vitamins (for two years) like I was the first time. I’ve been guzzling caffeine lately. I don’t even remember all the “right” things I should/shouldn’t be doing because I wasn’t ready for it to happen this fast.

Well, I feel a little better getting this typed out and sent into the universe. I’ve actually suspected I was pregnant for a little over a week, but I finally took the test yesterday and told Bobby. I guess part of me wasn’t ready for it to be real yet.

But a bigger part of me is ready. Jack is going to be the best big brother to this little person. Bobby’s already an amazing dad—and he was actually way more excited by the news than I thought (I think he’s actually wanted another baby for a while, but he wasn’t going to voice that opinion while I didn’t).

If you need to unfollow me, I totally understand (if anyone is even still out there reading, since I'm a terrible poster these days). I guess I’m THAT girl again. I’m pregnant with Baby #2.