We are searching data for your request:
Upon completion, a link will appear to access the found materials.
It was about a week before my 40th birthday, and I was feeling pretty fantastic.
I was exercising more than ever and eating a much healthier diet. And after finally coming to the conclusion with my husband that we were totally fine sticking with two kids, I had made the appointment with my doctor to talk IUD.
Everything was coming together. I was emerging from the baby and kid fog after five years and could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.
This was going to be the summer of
Then, after eating like a sumo wrestler for about a week, that little voice inside my head said, "This feels very very familiar. You better go to the store and get a pregnancy test ... and a vat of peanut butter. NOW!"
So, I peed on a stick. And another one. And another one.
And when there were no more sticks to pee on, I lunged for the phone and dialed my husband, who was traveling. When he picked up I just blurted out, "Dude, you're not gonna believe this" then held my breath.
Without even skipping a beat he said, "You're pregnant." Then he took a deep breath, laughed and said, "That's awesome!"
And I finally started to breathe again.
The next few weeks are a bit hazy, to be honest. There's no question we were excited about having a new baby in the family. But I won't lie, getting used to the idea of going backwards was (and still is) tough at times. Especially when it comes with with paralyzing fear, which set in immediately.
Having kids hasn't exactly been easy for us. It took us five years to have our first child. Along the way, we experienced three miscarriages, each more devastating then the last.
The first happened early on, around six weeks, while we were on vacation in Jamaica. I had no idea what was happening, had no access to a doctor and was scared to death. We had to call my ER doc brother-in-law who explained everything and helped us through.
The second loss also happened around six or seven weeks, this time while I was at Target (fun, right?). But when I went to the doctor to get an ultrasound, we found out that I was actually pregnant with twins and one was still alive. Then, at 12 weeks, I started to feel cramping while I was at a business lunch and I knew immediately. The other twin was gone. The doctor confirmed my suspicions and set me up for a D&C.
During each pregnancy, I thought to myself "Ok, chill out. What are the odds it will happen again? Small, right?" Then the minute I settled it and started to get excited – BAM! – it was back to square one.
Even now, after I've had two successful births, I still wake up every day expecting to miscarry. Running to the bathroom every five minutes assuming I will see red. And when I don't, I'm shocked. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Those of you who have also gone through this know this mindset can take a toll on everything – your work, body, mind, relationships, and a million things in between. It's tiring and frankly, I don't want to do it anymore.
So, now that I've made it to the second trimester and I've passed a few of the crucial tests, I've decided to try to let go of the fear and embrace this pregnancy.
That doesn't mean I'll always be chipper about it, that's just not realistic. But I will start to believe that it's going to happen and plan for our future life as Freeman, party of five.
And in the process, maybe I'll figure out how to do a good belly selfie. It's harder than it looks. Any tips?
Opinions expressed by parent contributors are their own.