Here we are again. After “trying” for the longest period of time yet, we have finally started to bake another nugget. The last nugget. The final piece to complete our 4-piece nugget meal. This is all weird Krissy speak for “I’m pregnant, again.”
I don’t know if it’s just me, or just me and Vince, but at least the last two times we’ve found out we are expecting another child, our reactions are not immediate joy. We both are like “ohhhhhh shit’s real now.” I don’t know why. We talked about having another baby. We went through the logistics and how this would change our lives (yet again). Pros and cons without an official list.
We both wanted a fourth child.
But when I peed on the stick a few days ago, my reaction was not excitement. That feeling was compressed by immediate worry and apprehension. Shit’s real now. There’s a child starting to grow in me again. Immediately I said to myself, “this is it. I’m done.” I know this is my last go. There’s no more room in my house or my life after this. This baby will be our last. I know that once I greet them next year, I will be closing the pregnancy chapter of my life for the rest of my life. That feels good to know.
Then I started to go through all the things that would change with this next baby. All the adjustments. Why was I not immediately happy? I wanted this child enough to stop taking birth control and track my ovulation. I did nothing to prevent it. Yet, here I am, not absolutely elated. WTF is wrong with me? I don’t think I’ve ever been elated to be pregnant.
I know I will adore this baby. I adore all my kids. They are such a source of happiness for me. I worried the same with every single child I had when I was pregnant. So why, why, why can’t my brain just be HAPPY?!
Vince – same thing. When he found out that he’s going to have another kid, he said “oh fuck.” And then he looked like a deer in the headlights. He’s happy, I know. But I think he feels the same way as me. Shit’s getting real. All the hypothetical pros and cons are now going to come to fruition. We always “make things work” no matter what life throws at us. But there’s still worry. How will we juggle another child?
It’s still early. I’m only 4 weeks….and I’m 40. According to all the medical advice, I’m not a prime age to have a kid. All kinds of things can go wrong. And that’s a little scary. My body is not in the same shape (biologically and physically) that it was 15 years ago when I had Gianna. Hell, it’s not in the same shape it was almost 3 years ago when I had Evie. I am not a spring chicken. Yes…all kinds of things can go wrong…but all kinds of things can go right, too.
I know in my heart that this will be a gigantic blessing. I felt this same apprehension with Evie and I can’t imagine life without her. I look at her now and think that if we didn’t decide to try again a couple years ago, she just wouldn’t exist. She wouldn’t be in this world at all. To boss us around and be the best part of our days.
This baby will be the same. I will look at him or her years from now and just be in awe that – if I didn’t try again, for this last time – they wouldn’t exist. They wouldn’t be here to light up our days and be Evie’s buddy to grow up with. They wouldn’t be here to complete our family and give us an even number of riders at the amusement parks. To fill that last chair at our dining table. The last stocking on our staircase.
I just wish I could feel joyous about being pregnant instead of worrying because worrying won’t do shit.
Congratulations!