Where God Closes a Door, He Opens a Uterus
You know how you felt at the end of The Sixth Sense? You felt like NO WAY I HAD ALL THE CLUES THE WHOLE TIME AND I NEVER PUT IT TOGETHER. We all felt that way.
Back in late July, I had my IUD removed. At first, it was because we were going “to try” and see what happened. But in all honesty, that lasted about two weeks.
Because of our unusual sleeping situations (we take turns sleeping on the couch since Bryan’s snoring is preventing us from sleeping in the same room), I was INSANELY tired. Like, cranky pants tired, times eleventy frillion.
So about two weeks after the removal, I said, “I’m done. Really.” Bryan agreed and began to set plans in motion for a vasectomy.
As you can imagine, sleeping in separate quarters doesn’t really lend itself to spontaneity, if you catch my drift. I really, really, REALLY never thought twice about anything.
I was cold all the time. I’m normally always my own personal space heater, but all of a sudden, I could be dressed in layers of sweaters outside in 90-degree weather and still complain about the chill. I was EXHAUSTED.
But – again. I was working (more than) full time, going to school (more than) full time, and still had other stuff happening. Exhaustion and taking crappy care of myself were not a surprising result of these things.
One morning – at 5:00 a.m. before a big customer meeting – I got up and shut off my iPhone alarm, like I usually do. I stumbled to the bathroom and checked my bangs to see if I could get away without shampooing that day, like I usually do. And as routinely as I did everything else, I took a pregnancy test.
And it was positive.
And like any normal person, I held up the two blue lines and said out loud, “Nope, don’t have time for this,” and shoved it in a drawer.
Naturally, once I had caffeine in me, I assumed the whole thing had been a dream. It was so surreal, and really, WHO REACTS THAT WAY? So I came home, greeted the boys playing video games, and excused myself for a second test. While the first test had some fuzziness to it, the second test arrived with fanfare and confidence. Pos-i-TIIIIIVE, it sang.
So like any normal person, I shoved it in the drawer with the other one and went to do homework.
When I told Bryan I was pregnant with Tony, I had planned a nice little revelation that revolved around a cute baby book and a private, intimate moment, the kind of memory that is absolutely perfect to record in a baby book that you then hand over to your teenager and they can be embarrassed at how saccharin their parents were.
Bryan knew something was up when I offered to come lay down with him for a little while.
Noting how cold my feet were, he mentioned how odd it was that I was now cold all the time. “Well, I’m about six weeks pregnant.” There was no fanfare, no sweet hesitation, no cushion.
He began giggling while gushing about how excited he was.
“I’ll let you get through that,” I said, rolling away. “I’m not there yet.”
We had just made the decision of No More, which resulted in the final purging of all baby-related items in the house, and the dregs of my long-forgotten maternity wardrobe. It was all gone. We had finally settled into this being our forever family, and it felt okay, honestly. I didn’t feel incomplete, I didn’t feel discontent. And now. NOW.
Irrationally, my main concern – outweighing the fact that we’d now have to upgrade EVERYTHING: house, cars, more baby stuff – was that I already had a baby. I mean, he didn’t look like a baby any more, since he was now approaching his 5th birthday, but he was. He was MY baby. My lap was his; he occupied over half of the pictures on my phone. I already carry so much guilt that he doesn’t get enough time, enough attention, and this would just split us further.
Bryan and I had made peace with the decision that we were done having kids. I made no bones about telling Tony that he would always, always be my baby, no matter how old he got. How would I tell him that there was now another? HE WOULD BE SO MAD AT ME.
Yesterday, we went to the doctor, finally having reached the magical eight weeks point. I had both dreaded and longed for this day; the arrival of this news meant I could finally TALK about it, and y’all, it has been KILLING ME to not talk about this.
Well, while we did get good news, it was certainly surprising: we were not eight weeks along, as the data suggested. Because of my IUD, my cycles were way out of whack. I was about six weeks, from what they could guess. Which means I knew I was pregnant at, like, THREE WEEKS.
MY OWN SIXTH SENSE.
Anyway, healthy little bean thingie in there, good heartbeat, all that jazz.
Due to scheduling yesterday, my master plan of us picking up Tony early and taking him for ice cream to tell him the news was kind of shit upon, so instead, I knelt in the kitchen and showed him the ultrasound picture. “There’s a baby in my tummy,” I admitted, like I had been lying to him.
“Where is the surprise again?” he asked.
“This is it, bud. Surprise.”
“Okay. I will keep this secret for the surprise tonight.”
And that baby – not a baby anymore – did, and we surprised the snot out of my family after a southern banquet.
Everyone is genuinely, truly excited. And I know I will be too. I think having to keep this a secret from EVERYONE is partly why I’m still so disassociated from it. I am trying to force it, trying to make myself feel excited because I know how some people would trade anything to be in my shoes, and I know that and that’s the logical way to see it, but I’m not there yet. I’m just not there. I am tired and overwhelmed and exhausted and I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel yet. I see a swirling hole of finances that are suddenly about to avalanche upon us and I see more uncertainty. I’m not there yet.
But thanks so much for your support thus far. All the kind words and sweet sayings and… really, thank you. I’m not there yet, but you guys will get me there, no doubt about it.
Wrangler of Rocket Scientists, Sarah Lena; has been beguiling hearts at The Anvil Tree; for over ten years now. Mom and StepMom to the masses, she proclaims herself Defender of Underdogs Everywhere as well as The Queen of Snark. You can also follow her on Twitter at @SarahLena.
I feel the need to tell you we were scheduled for a consultation about the Big V this morning. (Well, not me, but the husband.) We chickened out. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN???
Congratulations, Sarah! Thank your for such an honest, funny and sweet post. I think all the good/bad/neutral/whattheheck feelings are part of being a great mom. Nothing is perfect but a baby means there will be more love in the world, and how could that ever be a bad thing? Congratulations again – I’m so glad for you 🙂
We plan and God laughs. 🙂 Count your blessings. Having a child is a gift, so be thankful and take good care of yourself. I, too, know how hard it is to take care of children while working and going to school. I had to prioritize and give up some things in order to be the mother that I wanted to be. Don’t be afraid to do this. You don’t have to be superwoman. And kids don’t care about houses cars. They just want you to be there for them and love them. Put first things first. And remember–being a parent is the most important job that you will ever have.
Best wishes to you.
First of all, you will be fine. My boys are 5 years and 1 month apart exactly. There are advantages to the gap. 🙂 In 2001 we had our first child, we had been trying for about 2 years. After 2 times of it not working out, we were ecstatic to have our son. Samuel means “Asked of God” and he truly was……When he was one I decided to go off the pill. I thought it might be the reason I was nauseous. (That is/was probably just my wacky stomach.) Anyway…..for 4 years, I NEVER got pregnant. I had no reason as to why I wasn’t a Fertile Myrtle like the rest of my bunch. My Grandmother used to say that my Pawpaw could hang his pants on the bedost and she would get pregnant. She had a total of 8. For a time she was pregnant about every two years. She was 42 when she had her last child…..When Sam was 4, we just kind of figured we were done. We were fine either way. The little 4 year old birth control pill in the middle of the bed helped that. Haha. In January of 2006, our nephew had a really bad wreck. He is fine now and about 25. 🙂 I was supposed to work my one day a week get out of the house job that day. Instead I was headed to Huntsville with my Mil scaring the crap out of me with her anxious driving. On that day or the next, I thought I started my period, but it was just a little. The next day I was energetic, which isn’t usual for me. I realized I could be pregnant. I took a test and it was positive. I think I ended up taking two, because I was in denial and shocked. Nine months later we had Isaac which means “laughter”. Both of our boys are named after couples sons that though they might not ever have a baby on their own at all. Even though this was not exactly how I planned it, God knew our needs. Our eldest has been so much help with the youngest. Our youngest important non-verbal and we have to keep a close eye on him. The oldest is such a good big brother answer son. Prayers to you for a healthy pregnancy! Don’t worry about getting rid of your stuff. It will work out. 🙂
Thank you or writing this, I just found out I am pregnant with #5 quite surprisingly and it is a shock and adjustment. Your blog helps put things in perspective!