My Big News…by Liimu
So, I’ve been given the green light to tell you guys my BIG news. It’s sort of ironic, since I just joined MotherhoodLater as a regular blogger a few months ago. Maybe it’s easier if I tell you the story from the moment it began for me.
July 13, 2010…
Two days late for my period. Not all together odd for me, so honestly I’m not all that concerned. Not to mention the fact that even if by some strange miracle we are pregnant after four-plus years of not preventing, I know my husband will be thrilled. When I asked him if we were done (I kind of felt like I was, after having three children in 8 years), his response was, “I don’t know…I sort of have the feeling that someone is missing from our family.” I can hear you guys now… “Awwwww….” This reaction had me vacillating between a response of “Whatever, dude…let me know when you figure out how to get pregnant…” and buying an ovulation kit, set on trying to welcome that sixth person into our family. Hence, the fancy ClearBlue digital combo pack (ovulation predictor kit/pregnancy test) that just happened to be in my bathroom closet on this particular day.
I have been late for my period many, many times. I’m old enough now (just turned 40) to have somewhat irregular cycles. I’ve had friends even suggest this might be a sign of perimenopause. Early on after the birth of my third child, I would react to lateness with terror, then curiosity, then secret anticipation followed by mild let down at each negative test. So, by this very ordinary summer morning, I had become quite jaded to the whole experience and just wanted my negative result so I could go about my business, stop wondering and feel justified in wearing a bulky, uncomfortable pad all day for seemingly no reason that I would end up changing only because it felt grody not to after a long, sweaty day. I didn’t even time it. I just checked my e-mails on my BlackBerry, responded to a couple texts, and got set to weigh myself before starting the day. When I looked over at the sink, I don’t know that I’ve ever been more surprised than I was that moment I realized what the word was that was glaring back at me from the fancy digital pee stick: “Pregnant.” I literally said out loud, a la Tru Jackson: “You say WHAT NOW?”
After the initial shock wore off, it was time to tell my husband. I went upstairs, unconcerned about the early hour (it was 5:45 am) and pushed the door open and entered the darkness. “We have a situation,” I told him. I don’t know what he thought I meant. Most likely, he wondered if there was a leak in the kitchen or a large bug infestation in the laundry room, not that either of those things had happened before. This situation was more familiar, and yet I’m sure he hadn’t guessed. I went to show him the test, and of course, he had to reach for his reading glasses to verify the significance (though by this point the fact that I was holding out a pee stick at all had to have tipped him off – he was probably in the beginning stages of denial). His face broke into a grin, and for close to an hour we just lay there and let the information sink in. I’d given away all my maternity clothes and all our baby clothes. We had just finished potty training our youngest child, and she was only a year away from starting kindergarten. What would become of our music career, which hadn’t even yet gotten off the ground? I had just gotten within shouting distance of my goal weight – would I be able to run the half marathon in September? Could we afford this? When would the baby come? What if it’s a boy, finally, after three girls? What if it’s another girl? We giggled in the darkness like a couple of teenagers, sharing a sweet, somewhat scary secret. And so the journey began.
I’ve been given the green light to chronicle this pregnancy week by week. I hope you’ll enjoy reading firsthand what it’s like to be a 40-year old mom of three girls (7, 6 and 3) now pregnant with a fourth child. I’ll be sure to be honest about all of it – the joys of finding out the gender and telling our daughters about the new baby, and the misery of morning sickness and the unbelievable fatigue that comes with trying to chase after three girls while another baby is brewing.
Be sure to read next week’s blog….”The Psychic Sister,” in which I’ll share some pretty wild psychic moments my 7 year old had before she even found out we were pregnant.