I need to write this, to make some sense of the place I am at or have been in over the past while. No doubt it will come out all confusing and convoluted but I need to write it all down to try and make some sense of it all. It is full of too much information so I suggest if you actually know me that you skip this post entirely.
When I was growing up I was always going to have 2 kids, first a boy and then not oto long after I would have a beautiful little girl. Lucky me, I got what I wished for and I have the pigeon pair – a beautiful 8 year old boy and a 6 year old girl. I had a feeling of contentment, that my life was full and perfect and just what I planned. I didn’t want any more kids. Fortunately man-child shares the same sentiment, and is probably even more adamant about it than I am.
Shortly after girl-child was born, the big V was discussed. I guess the thought of it freaked me out a little. What if we changed our minds, what if for some reason our marriage fell apart and man-child were to want another family and they wanted kids, what if it didn’t work, what if …? So as you can imagine, nothing ever happened. I briefly went back on the pill, mainly as pain relief after girl-child was born but soon decided that despite the pain relief it really wasn’t worth it for all the insanity and extra moodiness that it seemed to cause. Besides with 2 kids and work and everything happening at the time I barely remembered to wash let alone take a tiny little pill. Before I knew it I had ditched the pill and had reverted to my pill free slightly less moody behaviour and instead adopted the ‘no glove no love’ philosophy.
All was well with this new order of how things were to happen and if I am to be totally honest and share Too Much Information, I liked the lack of wet patch to deal with. That is, all was well with this new theory until earlier in the year. I can’t even remember the occasion or even if there was an occasion but a drink or three too many and one thing led to another. The morning after man-child declared that he had better go to the chemist, just in case. I wasn’t too happy about it, the thought of additional hormones racing through my already crazy body but I sent him out to purchase the required little tablets.
Instead of coming back with a little package containing the morning after pill he came back armed with a ginormous document that needed to be completed before the drugs could be issued. No dramas, I began filling them out. After about 5 minutes when I was barely a quarter of the way through the documentation I threw them onto the floor in disgust. I didn’t know the answers to any of the questions. All this talk of when my last period was, how long my cycle was and if I was ovulating at the time amongst other questions. How the freak was I supposed to know. My cycle is irregular at best, I have never known when I ovulate and both times round pregnancy was within weeks of contemplating trying to get pregnant. It made me angry and annoyed, not only did I know so little about my body and that I had to document and share this with others but the fact that I actually required the morning after pill in the first place.
So if we fast forward a few weeks and then a few more, I still hadn’t had a real period. My breasts were tender and larger than usual, my skin was clear for the first time in months, my nails were long and strong, even my hair was shiny. I was also beyond tired most days. To make matters worse, I was having insane cravings for broccoli and I was freaking the hell out. Finally I had a period. It was much later than I was expecting, even with an irregular cycle and it was very light and on some days almost non-existent. I figured a period is a period and I was safe but my breasts continued to ache, my skin was still clear and I still wanted insane amounts of broccoli. To make matters worse I was getting nauseous regularly and was frequently fighting back dry heaves when travelling. I was starting to freak out.
Was I pregnant? No surely not, but I had this nagging doubt that perhaps maybe I could be, it kinda felt like it could be true. I was really freaking out. Despite knowing that I am only meant to have 2 children in my family, and I believe that with all my heart, I was starting to think that there could be more. Was there room in my heart and in my head for another child? Things were just starting to be right with our family, the balance was great I didn’t want to destroy it yet somehow I felt that if by that slight chance I was pregnant I couldn’t terminate. This thought in itself I found confusing. I was never a person to insist on all pregnancies being carried through, I believe that every child has a right to a good life in a loving and supportive environment. Could I provide a loving and supportive environment for another child, a child that was never planned but would be loved none the less? Alternatively, could I place a child that I had carried up for adoption? I didn’t think so, but knowing wonderful friends who desperately wanted to adopt it was an option.
It was all too confusing, I wanted to know but at the same time I really didn’t want to know because knowing would mean making a decision and I was too tired to make a decision. I blurted this all to man-child and he returned with a pregnancy test. Of course I was in a foul mood and refused to take it, just to make life more convenient for him, so I ignored it and went on stressing for a day or so longer.
Eventually, in a moment of actual peace and quiet in the madness of our house I peed on the stick. I was so nervous that despite needing to pee I just couldn’t let go. I had to do breathing exercises to relax my body. In the past, with each pregnancy I have had, I have peeked at the results window to watch the liquid climb up through the inner magic of the pregnancy test and before my eyes I have watched that second line appear. This time I was too afraid to look, I simply sat the test on the bench and wandered away for a few minutes.
When I returned to the bathroom, a mini stand off was held. Here I am, shaking like a leaf trying to muster up the courage to lift up the pee soaked strip encased in plastic. I didn’t want to touch it but I had left it window side down so I did have to pick it up. Finally I did peek and there it was, one single solitary line. I was not pregnant. It is hard to describe the conflicting emotions that were running through me. I felt like I had lost something, that I was actually attached to something that never actually was. I was deflated. Maybe somewhere deep down inside me I was hoping that perhaps it were true, that perhaps our family is to be a bigger family than it already is. Perhaps I wanted the dream that girl-child had had a few days earlier to be prophetic, the day that she bounced out of bed with a huge smile on her face declaring that she had had an awesome dream and in it she had just been to the hospital to visit me and the new babies! Perhaps I just wanted to feel a baby growing inside me again, a feeling that I really didn’t slow down enough to savour when I was pregnant with girl-child. Yet at the same time I was immensely relieved. Life was good, in fact life was great, and as a family we were discovering work/life/family fun balance and all of that could continue as planned.
Of course, days after the confirmation test I had another period, again not a huge one but one that was accompanied by acne and broken fingernails. The symptoms of a pregnancy that never was were disappearing, all except for the cravings for broccoli, a bladder the size of a bean that still wakes me multiple times most nights and the odd occasion of inability to travel in the back seat of a car! Baby #3 never was and I think I was happy.
This story ends with me enjoying not being pregnant and man-child booked in for a consultation/referral for a vasectomy. I know that this is all way too much information but it goes to show the additional state of turmoil in my little head of late and I am happy to say I love being a part of our little family of 4 where the kids don’t out number the adults and the gender balance is even. It is all kind of perfect really.