I love it when blogs I follow regularly share exciting news. It's like this little juicy fruit reward for all the "I crocheted this" posts (I apologize - that last was was pretty long) and "Here is a blurry shot of my kids hugging" pictures (sorry about those). I also get this street cred pride: "I followed you before this exciting event that is attracting a lot of attention!" I like to think that I'm pretty liberal with the juicy tidbits - whether good exciting or bad exciting, I've had two babies, one miscarriage, more cross-country moves than I care to count, a car wreck, some surgeries. In four years. My life feels boring on a day-to-day basis, but when I look back, I realize that my life is actually kind of nuts-o. And today, I'd like to add more juice.
I'm going to take a moment to let that sink in. With you and with me. I've known for two weeks now, but I'm still in complete shock. It was very unexpected, unplanned, and I'm a little...how should I say this...totally freaked out and completely not ready on any level.
We've already told immediate family and a few close friends, but I haven't posted it on Facebook yet, so in a way, we haven't really gone public. I'm still processing it and this post is necessarily going to ramble because I need to ramble - I have to get all my thoughts out there before I can make sense of them.
A few quick data points. I'm 10 weeks along. I'm due in November. Eleanor and this baby will be 18 months apart.
We did want to conceive in 2015, but I was hoping to get pregnant in November or December, not deliver. In 2014, I had a baby. In 2015, I'll have a baby. And in between those two babies, I had kidney surgery. Eleanor only started sleeping alone three months ago. She only stopped nursing about two months ago. I was just starting to feel like myself again. I'm totally not ready to get swallowed back up by those crazy, tumultuous newborn days. Matt and I have committed to going on a date once a month until this baby comes. We want to make as many deposits into the "us" relationship bank account as we can before we have to start drawing down on it again.
My pride is taking a big hit too: I was so proud of my NFP prowess. "Two planned babies in seven years," I could confidently tell naysayers and healthcare providers. "Clearly I've got this." Well, guys, I don't got this. Breastfeeding way changes things. And clearly the Postpartum NFP guide that served us so well after Abigail wasn't enough for us this time around. We're going to go see an NFP councilor at the six week mark.
It took us a while to get pregnant with both girls and now, just, bam! What the heck, body? Also, both planned babies were born in May and both this baby and the baby we lost are/were due in November. Nine months before May and nine months before November, Matt and I need to sleep in separate bedrooms.
Of course I am as sick as a freakin' dog. That's actually how this all started. I thought coffee wasn't agreeing with me, so I cut it out of my morning routine, but then I was crazy tired. After a few days of all-day exhaustion, I started adding this caffeinated flavor concentrate to my water that I'd gotten on a good sale + coupon match up. But then I started getting massively nauseous, so I thought maybe it was too much caffeine. I then thought that I might not be getting enough salt in my diet (because that happened to me once in Florida), so I decided that when Matt got home from work, I'd run up to the store and get some Powerades. I announced that I was going to get a pregnancy test too, because while I was 100% certain that I was not pregnant, I just didn't know what else to do. As I grabbed the pregnancy test and headed over to the sports drinks, I started second guessing the need for the test. "I'm sure I'm not pregnant. This is a waste of money. I should just drink Powerade for a week and see how I feel after that." But I bought it anyway, and when a little blue plus sign appeared in the window, the very first thing that crossed my mind was, "Uh oh, my test is broken." It took a good 10 minutes of Googling "False positive pregnancy tests" before I finally let the realization sink in.
Blood work and an ultrasound have since confirmed that little plastic stick.
While I've been totally freaking out, Matt has mysteriously been rather calm-headed about everything. He suspected pregnancy when the nausea hit. All the "Life is about to very drastically change" stuff has me in a near panic. But I think there is this mysterious dance that married couples can pull off that when one person is freaking, the other is calm. When I start to calm down, he'll probably get his own freak out. But right now it's hard to imagine being so okay that I'll be able to calm Matt down.
Two kids fit neatly in the same lifestyle that fits a newly wed couple. Two carseats fit in a sedan. Two baby beds fit in a the second bedroom of a two bedroom apartment. Two booster seats can strap on to the two empty dining room chairs that come with a four person dinner table. But three kids? This is the big leagues. We're gonna have to buy a second vehicle. One with third row seats. We're gonna have to buy or rent a house. We're gonna need to upgrade somebody to a big girl bed. I'm very excited to be launched into "real family life" stuff, but I'm super anxious about the whole "Matt's job is not permanent" stuff. That is the only reason we don't already have a house and second car.
The last thing that keeps me up worrying is the community response part. I already get "you're too young to have kids" and "your hands are full!" comments quiet regularly, and I've even gotten a "your kids are too close in age" comment about the girls (the commenter didn't even ask how far apart they actually are). After all the shit I've dealt with about Abigail, I'm not at all worried about what snarky comment Mrs. Busybody at the grocery store can throw my way. I'm worried about the people closer to me. I felt so much love and support when I was pregnant with Eleanor. Friends from all three states threw love our way, people volunteered in droves to make us postpartum meals. Once I hit the third trimester, if I ever missed our regular Mass time, the next week, old ladies I didn't even know would come up to me: "I've been following your pregnancy and when you weren't here, I thought you had the baby!" I've heard many, many stories from friends who lost that support when they passed the acceptable limit of two kids. If this baby is a boy, I'm sure I'll never stop hearing about what a perfect time it would be to stop.
I know that when I'm totally freaking out about being pregnant, it sounds crazy when I say I want more. But I seriously don't think three is our limit. I just think we'll make sure we really "got" NFP enough to put a little more distance between three and four.
So that is all the shit I feel on my plate right now, in raw, stream-of-consciousness form.
I am excited. How could I look at Eleanor's cute baby chubs and not be excited that soon there will be another? Just because I'm totally freaking out doesn't mean I don't already love the tiny heart beating inside me right now. We're already talking names, Godparents, what kind of SUV we're going to get (we're not minivan people), and if we want to find out the gender. Emotions comes in waves of "How can I possibly be pregnant?!" and "Woo, family life!"
I went to the OB/GYN last week (my doctor told me I was good for business) and got a prescription for anti nausea meds. I didn't get any with Eleanor until the day before she was born because I wanted to be natural about everything. But I can't this time. Sea bands help, but the ginger pills never have. I can't be a mom to a 3-year-old and 11-month-old when I'm puking in the toilet every day. Between the daily supplements, the sea bands, and the meds he gave me for the break-through nausea, I'm down to two nausea spells per day and no vomiting.
The doctor said there is no reason why I shouldn't expect another successful VBAC.
I'm going to spend this summer trying my hardest to get Abigail a little more independent. It'd be great if I could get her out of diapers and if she could get herself dressed. And we'll get serious about the house issue in June (after the wedding). Our apartment lease expires at the end of July. I'm praying Matt gets a permanent job nearby and we buy a house. So much to plan and do. But it feels really good to have gotten it all out there. Thank you for listening.