Posted on | June 27, 2012 | 9 Comments
When we were trying to get pregnant with Sully, every negative test was a sad moment. I would sigh, place the test in the trash, wipe a couple tears and move on with the day. We were lucky, and within six months, that test finally came back positive. Right on the tip of the “average” scale in terms of trying to conceive time. The feelings I had when I finally saw that positive test were indescribable. I was beyond elated. I burst into tears and ran out of the bathroom, yelling to Taylor that he had to wake up because we were going to be parents. In the next five minutes, I got sick. It was as though my body had to see the results to recognize what was happening.
I never understood that feeling of relief that people got with a negative test. I never had a “scare.” Never had a moment where I thought I might be pregnant and wasn’t ready. Even with Arlo, even when we got pregnant almost immediately after Taylor’s boots hit American soil after a deployment, I wasn’t scared. I was excited and nervous, but not scared. A negative test would have been a disappointment to me.
Last month, we had a “scare.”
Having not been quite as careful as we could have been and combining that with a period showing up late, and I was terrified. Let me tell you, there is nothing like thinking you’re pregnant unplanned to make you realize just how NOT ready you are for another baby.
Don’t get me wrong, if we were to find out we were pregnant, I would probably freak out for about, ten minutes, maybe cry. And then I would get over it. And we would be thrilled and make it work and get excited. We would lean on God and each other, we would tighten our belts, and we would build our little family once again. But y’all? I am soooo not ready. Selfishly, I kept thinking about the fact that I have either been breastfeeding or pregnant with the exception of six months since February of 2009. I was thinking about how hard I’ve been working to look good in a swim suit and how this would be another summer where I was miserably sick and uncomfortable in my clothes. I thought about how I wasn’t ready to give up wine or hot, hot baths. I thought about having to buy ANOTHER crib and not having a guest room.
I was so selfishly not ready.
Taylor had a slight moment of panic, too. Though, he tends to keep his head on straight in moments of fear. He quickly reminded me that we would be okay, and that obviously, we weren’t too worried or we would have been more careful. And he’s right. I’ve talked and talked about wanting a third, but in that moment, I knew I hadn’t fully thought about what another baby would entail.
I didn’t end up having to take that pregnancy test as my body finally got back on track, but I can’t tell you how relieved I felt. And yet, a little sad that I was relieved. It was a hard to realize that I really am not ready. It was hard to see how happy I was to NOT be pregnant. I know that someday, I want to see a positive test and feel that joy and excitement and thrill of knowing there is another life on the way.
But not yet.