This is such a difficult topic for me to write about. I've gone back and forth for a long time now wondering if I should even share my experience, afraid I'll inadvertently offend someone or be judged for my feelings. But after a lot of thought I've decided that now is the time to put it all out there. And maybe anyone else who has found herself in this situation can take comfort in knowing that she isn't alone.
When I found out I was pregnant with Fallon there was nothing but positive emotions. I was so excited, overjoyed, just completely thrilled to know that I was going to have a baby. Although she was a bit of a surprise, it was simply because it happened sooner than expected. We were as ready as any couple can be to start a family. Chris and I had discussed having another child, if possible, close in age to our first. But after Fallon was born my feelings started to change. She wasn't a sleep all the time kind of baby. We struggled with breastfeeding in the beginning then she ended up ditching the bottle when everything clicked in that department. So we were attached 24/7 whether I needed a break or not. She cried so much we worried it wasn't normal, though we could never find a reason for it other than her fiery personality. I had postpartum anxiety that peaked when Fallon was about 9 months old and I had a fleeting moment when I thought maybe she would be an only child. As she neared the one year milestone though I realized I definitely wanted to give her a sibling, just maybe in a few years. But there was another plan for us.
My doctor said it was normal for a woman's body to remain infertile through the duration of exclusive breastfeeding. This was true for me until Fallon was about 11 months old. I wrote down that date because I had an annual checkup scheduled the following month and ladies, we all know that's the famous question. But so many people told me things don't always go back to the way they were before so I wasn't entirely sure it even counted. None the less, there are things you do when you want to have a baby and things you do when you don't. We were in the latter camp. Fallon turned one in early July and we had the best time celebrating our baby girl. My anxiety was waning significantly and life was starting to feel less overwhelming and more fun. A few weeks later Fallon and I were strolling the aisles of Target and she knocked something off a shelf. As I reached down to pick it up I had a moment like something you see in a movie. Cue the music and/or slow motion, one of those things that lets you know this scene is something of huge significance. It was a pregnancy test.
I held it in my hand as I was looking to see that date in June I had written down. And a little tingle down the back of my spine urged me to buy that test. But all the way home I felt a horribly unwelcome sense of dread. I was afraid it was going to be positive. And that feeling was immediately followed by guilt. So much guilt. Here I am, a young healthy woman with the means to carry and support another new life, hoping for the opposite. How dare I feel this way when I personally know people who would probably give a kidney to see a positive pregnancy test? And how awful of a mother am I for having all these negative feelings about another baby when there was nothing but happiness over his or her sibling? What a terrible way to begin a pregnancy. I was so internally conflicted I didn't even want to take the test. And I didn't breath a word to anyone. That afternoon I couldn't take it anymore and took one of the 2 tests in the box. And it came up negative.
I stood there waiting for the relief to wash over me, followed by the guilt for that feeling. It never came. Instead, I shocked myself by simply feeling.....dissapointed. Huh?! That's right, I was actually kind of sad. I had been in our first floor bathroom as Fallon was in the living room. I was in such a state of confusion I tossed the test into the metal garbage can, that should have a bag in it but never does. I went through the next few hours in a fog, running on autopilot. Another trip to the bathroom caused me to pick the test back up to throw away in the kitchen garbage can where my toddler wouldn't get to it (ew). And when it hit the light my eyes went wide. There was a second line. I swore I could see it, albeit faint, I saw it. It was far past the recommended time frame to read a result but there was a line. I didn't sleep that night. First thing in the morning I took the other test and watched it like a hawk. Sure enough, that second line came up. And all those familiar feelings that hit me when I learned I was growing my first baby came flooding back immediately. It was the most insane emotional roller coaster in less than 24 hours.
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