Wow! Well it’s been a ridiculously long time since I’ve updated a blog post. In my defense, I’ve been completely caught up in work/wedding/baby madness, but now that things have calmed down considerably I think it’s about time I posted, especially considering what’s been going on over here.
As anyone who knows me well enough will tell you, I struggle with spontaneity. I like to live with a structured plan, and deviations from that completely overwhelm me. And again, as anyone who knows me well enough will also tell you, a baby was never in my immediate plans. In fact the idea of getting pregnant was, as of about a month ago, probably my worst fear; I have way too much I intend on accomplishing in the next couple years for the role of “mom” to be anything but a distant consideration.
My husband (then fiancé) is the complete opposite; he’s been baby-crazy for as long as I’ve known him, and that talk has become much more serious since we got engaged during the summer. He feels like he is meant to be a dad, and anyone who knows him well enough would agree; he’s incredibly patient, loving, gentle, goofy, and young at heart and any child would be beyond blessed to have him as a father. But, despite this, I wanted us to wait. Every time he brought it up, my automatic response was: “not a chance. Ask me in 4 years!” When we were both finished our schooling, and had a home and stable careers; then, I thought, we could start talking about a family.
So you can imagine the incredible, overwhelming shock I felt when I discovered in early March that we were expecting. I should have known, of course; the signs were all there. It started with the unexplainable exhaustion during my nightly exercise… A run I’ve been doing for years became painful, and I found myself nearly fainting at the end of every workout. Then, there was the sudden, random, projectile vomiting that started happening almost every day, something I naïvely chalked up to wedding stress. And I can’t forget the ability to strongly smell everything around me, the most memorable of which was a glass of wine my fiancé had a room away but which smelled like it was right underneath my nose.
All of these were signs of pregnancy, and I knew this, but I refused to acknowledge it. Firstly, we were beyond safe and couldn’t grasp even the possibility of pregnancy (my doctor is still baffled as to how it actually happened), and secondly we’d never had a scare before so I was full of that arrogant belief of invincibility. Finally, however, after day ten or eleven of puking in a row my fiancé decided we needed to take me to the clinic. “Well, I might as well take a pregnancy test now then,” I said in response. “If I go in there and tell them I’m puking this much they’re going to ask me if I’m pregnant so I might as well be sure.” Not believing for a second that I actually was.
I have to say, the two positive pregnancy tests that followed that statement severely humbled me. And as we sat on the couch giggling in shock and disbelief afterwards, I can’t say the thought of “you can’t keep it” didn’t go through my mind. I would love to say that I’m perfect, and rose to the occasion instantly, but that’s just not true. I detest deceitfulness, especially in writing, and I feel the need to be honest about my emotional struggle during those first few days after the revelation. All of my plans: schooling, career, travel, flashed before my eyes and seemed to slip away through my fingers, replaced by the image of a crying, needy baby.
It’s not that I’m not maternal; I love children, have always wanted to be a mom one day, and in fact work as a nanny for a family with 5 kids. It’s just that this didn’t seem like the right time… how could it be when I was right in the middle of schooling, my fiancé had just started a new job, and we were still living in a rented suite?
So, I tried to put the thought of keeping the baby out of my mind, and my fiancé was above and beyond supportive, though I knew his heart leaned in the opposite direction. Nonetheless, I set up an ultrasound to find out how far along I was, and then went about my life. But a few days after finding out, I went for a run to clear my head and found myself talking to my baby the entire time. I wasn’t even consciously aware that I was doing it for the majority of my run; I told it about the neighbourhood I was running through, what it had been like for me to grow up here, what I hoped its childhood would be like, and suddenly when I realized what I was doing, tears came. Too many to contain. I found myself stopping near the end of my run, walking home and crying my eyes out the entire way with the thought of “how can something so wonderful ruin my life?” Spinning around and around in my head.
When I finally arrived home my fiancé and I sat together and cried for a long time, talking to our baby and each other about what a joy it would be to keep it and what amazing parents we knew we would be, regardless of where our careers or home stability sat. I knew in that moment that if I gave up my child, it would forever haunt me. I was not a woman who would feel empowered by my choice; rather, I would feel as though I had a ghost attached to my shadow, the ghost of a child that should have been. When we did move on to have children, planned children, our first would always be seen in my heart as our second, and I didn’t think I could live with that.
That night, we went to bed with heavy and confused minds; I don’t believe either of us got much sleep.
However, the next day things became even more complicated. An ultrasound was followed by a phone call from the doctor with something that managed to completely stun me in a way, given the weeks events, I wouldn’t have thought possible.
“Did the ultrasound technician tell you anything about your pregnancy…?” She said hesitantly over the phone. When I said no, she responded with something I will always remember vividly: “You’re having twins. Identical twins, actually.”
More tears came then. I cannot explain to anyone who has not had a phone call like that what it truly feels like, but I can say that beyond the initial shock there is a powerful undercurrent of overwhelming joy and love for the double blessing you realize you’ve been given. My mom had been a twin (though hers died in the womb) and there were several other sets in my family, and a couple in my fiancé’s, which massively increased our chances of conceiving them; it was also something we’d always talked about as desperately wanting. Again, the thought struck me: how could something so wonderful, such a massively beautiful gift ever ruin our lives? And I knew then that it couldn’t. No matter how little money or stability we had, we would love our children and be the best parents we could possibly be, and nothing could get in the way of that.
As my mom told me the next day when I told her what was going on “you are never really ready to have a baby. There is never a perfect time. Babies come when they’re ready and they are always a blessing.”
And I knew she was right.
So we decided to keep our precious babies, and every moment since then has been amazing. It seems so easy and natural for me; though I’ve started falling asleep by 8, I’ve simply changed my schedule and made my nightly workouts earlier in the evening so I’m not exhausting myself. And though my morning sickness has been classified as “severe”, I don’t mind very much as I know it means my children are healthy. And though I’ve had the odd craving (ice-cream is a steady one) I ignore it and eat spinach instead because I know it’s what my little ones need to grow and be strong. All the deviations and surprises and things I have no control over don’t bother me like they once did, and I feel very at peace.
For the first time in my life I feel capable of relaxing and going with the flow, and more happy and purposeful than I ever have previously. I spent so much time convincing myself that children were the worst punishment that could be inflicted on me at this age, but I find now that I realize they will be the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I look forward to every day of this new journey my husband and I will take together with our family. It might not have been in the plans, but I've discovered now that life doesn't really care what your plans are, and I'm surprisingly thankful for that.
A BIG lesson from life’s imperfections.
