Well. It happened.
After five months of trying, weeks before our official cut off date, we did it.
We got pregnant.
I can’t even describe what it felt like, seeing that “yes” pop up in the little window. It was overwhelming. And not necessarily in a good way. It was an immediate “oh, FUCK”.
I can vividly remember how it felt when we got the positive tests for G. and for L. How excited I was. How grateful. We had had a loss between them so that second test was just so amazing. I cried, I couldn’t wait to tell people, it was the most exciting time. This time felt different. I saw that positive, and all I could think was “Am I really going to go through with this?!” I knew I was starting to struggle a bit mentally, with winter coming. I could feel myself starting to withdraw, starting to feel my seasonal depression show its head. After Shane’s shift changed and no longer matched up with my cycle, we knew that this was it. This was our family. We got a dog. We were settled and happy. And then I ovulated two days early and now here we are. 8 weeks pregnant with a baby I’m still not 100% convinced I want.
That’s the first time I’ve admitted that anywhere other than in my head.
I’m so scared for this. I’m worried that my postpartum is going to come back. I worried that I’m going to be overwhelmed. That I’m not going to be able to care for each of them they way they need to be.
And then there’s petty things. I’m worried that I won’t be invited to places because of my three hooligans. That it’s going to make daily life harder. Even just getting out the door is going to be harder. And right now, I can’t focus on the good. On all the joy that my friends with three kids say it brings. The extra love, the relationships between the kids. I’m still lost in the mindspace of how much harder this is going to make my life. This isn’t a good headspace to be in during pregnancy. I should be glowing, right?! Not a ball of anxiety about what’s to come. I already barely sleep. G. is super excited, but her brother gets jealous when the dog snuggles me, so that’s going to be a challenge. And then the dog. I still can’t leave the house without him destroying at least one thing, so that’s going to drive me insane, and now that winter is coming, it’s too dark to walk him properly after work, especially with the kids. He still runs away off leash, I can’t haul the stroller through the snow and L. refuses to walk so what am I supposed to do?
Ugh. Life is a mess. A complicated, stressful mess. This is adulting right? This is how it’s supposed to be, right? That’s what I’m told, that there’s always going to be stressors and complications. I just need to learn how to cope again. I’ve stopped my yoga, I haven’t written in ages, I’ve been disassociating again. So today, I’m writing. I found a prenatal yoga program by my favourite yoga studio, I’m hoping to turn things around before I fall as deep as I did with my last pregnancy.
Cross my fingers.