Call me a Cliche
For many months now (about nine, I’d wager) we haven’t been using protection. Now, life with a toddler means it’s not exactly a frat house around here, but occasionally things happen. We weren’t ready to start actively trying to get pregnant again – we weren’t even entirely convinced we wanted another child at all. But we were well into the “it would be okay if it happened on its own” phase. I even started paying attention to my cycles a little bit. But it was all very laissez-faire, without any charts or graphs.
You see where this is going, don’t you?
Apparently we gave ourselves a Thanksgiving present. Because a couple of weeks later, good old AF wasn’t showing up, and my body was doing weird things, and I started to wonder “What if it really did happen on its own?!” And lo and behold, I took a pregnancy test and it was positive.
This whole thing is so surreal, I can’t even begin to tell you. Our son, who we fought tooth and nail to conceive, is not quite two, and here we are, expecting his younger sibling. I secretly hoped and dreamed we would be one of those stories you hear about, the people who had to go to all kinds of lengths to get pregnant and then got a surprise pregnancy the second time around. And more and more of my friends on Twitter were falling into this category, and I’ll admit that I started to get jealous. And then it happened to me. I am still pinching myself.
I went a bit too early for my first appointment at the OB, and there was no heartbeat. She said it was probably just that I wasn’t quite six weeks yet (even though, based on my last menstrual period, I was – but we all know how reliable those measurements are). But of course I’ve been nervous. I’ve also been nauseated, and bloated, and fatigued. But until I saw a heartbeat on an ultrasound, I wasn’t one hundred percent believing it. Today I had another appointment, and this time I saw my sweet glowing jelly bean with a healthy beating heart. The baby is measuring 7 weeks 4 days, which puts our EDD at August 21st.
We are having another baby.
We are now in that awkward wanting-to-tell-everyone-we-know-but-being-too-superstitious-to-do-so phase. Most of our immediate family knows, and a couple of select friends. I’m trying to behave myself and not tell anyone else until we’re out of this trimester. I feel like crap, so it’s hard to hide it. And I feel like a bad mom quite often, since I’m too tired and sick to play properly with my son, and all I can handle meal-wise is takeout most of the time. But there will be time to make it up to him, right? *sniff*.
In the mean time, I am still breastfeeding E just once a day, and I’m thinking weaning is around the corner. My OB assured me it’s safe, but I feel like it has to happen sooner rather than later so he won’t associate weaning with his new baby brother or sister. It’s going to break both of our hearts a little bit, but we’ll have to find a way. I’m setting his second birthday as a basic goal, but I just don’t know how I’m going to do it. I’m thinking it will have to involve telling him mommy ran out of milk and won’t have any anymore. I’ll try not to cry when I tell him.
So there you have it. We’re getting back on this roller coaster ride again!