When the second line appeared on the pregnancy test, I sat on the bathroom floor, and ugly cried. I wasn’t ready for another child.
It was 6:00 a.m. My husband had already left for work. My two very, very young children were still sleeping peacefully. And I was looking at confirmation that I may never sleep again.
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We weren’t trying for our third—quite the opposite. And while we had discussed more children in the future, the plan was not to have that happen right then. I was going to have three under three. Well under three. And I was NOT okay.
So I did what many of us do when we’re on the brink. I grabbed my phone and dialed a friend I knew would understand, who had been through this. It was 4:00 a.m. where she lived in California, and I woke her up. And I told her. Her response was, “Oh shit.”
That was what I needed to hear. Not “congratulations!” Not “how exciting!” Not anything positive. I needed someone who would tell me it was okay to be scared, angry, disappointed, and unhappy. Someone to say to me it was okay to cry.
Because I wasn’t ready.
She listened to me cry as I blubbered through a list of fears, worries, and stresses. And then she told me it was okay to be mad about it for the whole nine months, that I could be angry and negative inside the entire time.
And she told me I would still love my baby in the end.
In a way I couldn’t process yet, she knew I already loved my baby, but there were many other feelings and realities to get through first. She gave me permission to feel all my feelings.
I told my husband that night when he came home from work. And then I told no one for months. Because I couldn’t. I couldn’t smile, answer questions, and pretend to be excited.
Because I wasn’t ready.
Eventually, we told other people, and I managed to put on a happy face for everyone but my closest friends. I only occasionally broke down into tears when people looked at my other two and then at my belly and made a comment about “having my hands full.” {Tip, please NEVER say that to any mother unless your next sentence is an offer of help in some way.}
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I could have happily remained pregnant for many weeks past my due date because I knew how much harder it would be once baby was out instead of in.
You see, I still wasn’t ready.
But number three arrived promptly on time, wide-eyed and ready to take on the world.
It was love at first sight.
Was it hard once he came? Oh, hell yes. When people ask me how I did it, I tell them I really can’t remember. It was so hard that I block it out. I was right to be worried, scared, and unsure.
I knew then, and I know now, how lucky I am to have three beautiful children. I know many people go through hell and high water to become parents. I know about counting my blessings and being thankful. And I am.
But then. Then, I wasn’t ready.
And that’s okay too.
