A little less confused

If you are trying to get pregnant and having trouble or pursuing infertility treatments of any kind you may want to skip this post. Okay, you've been warned.

My little scare this past week has allowed me to reflect upon my feelings. Do I really want to get pregnant again? Why was I so upset to be pregnant and then even more upset when I wasn't? What could possibly be feeding these feelings? Here is what I came up with.

When I thought I was pregnant I was really nervous about having to tell Joe. He has been very clear that he does not want more children. He has his boy and his girl and is just months away from having every Tuesday to himself because both kids will be in school full time. He loves that the kids are getting to an independent age. He doesn't have to lug around a diaper bag every where he goes and can trust them to play on their own...most of the time. He has no desire to go back to the baby stage. I think part of the reason I was upset about being pregnant was because I know how he feels about another child.

It was pointed out to me that Joe would get used to the idea and love a child when it is born. I have no doubt in my mind that is a true statement. Joe will love any child we bring into the world as furiously as he loves the two we already have. I have no doubt in my mind he will be as wonderful a father to a third as he was to his first two. He will write that baby a book just like he did for the other two. He will sing that baby songs and play tea party when necessary. And, the first two were not planned by any stretch of the imagination.

And that brings me to another point. I think somewhere deep down, I want to plan a pregnancy. In case you are new to the blog and didn't read my introduction post I will give you a little background. Joe and I got married pretty young. We were just 20 when we took our vows. We decided we wanted to wait 7 years to get pregnant. That would give us time to be married, finish school, buy a house, save some money. But, 7 years turned into 7 months when we had too much tequila and had sex on a bar table; 40 weeks later we welcomed Payton into the world.

She wasn't planned but she was loved and well taken care of. We knew she would have a little brother or sister but not for at least 4 years. Well, 4 years turned into just 17 months and an oh shit when those two pink lines showed up. And, 39 weeks later, we welcomed Caden into the world. He too was loved and well cared for.

I think I want that elated feeling a positive pregnancy test brings so many women instead of the oh shit what the hell are we going to do feeling I had with both of my pregnancy tests. I want to feel the thrill of a life growing inside of me instead stressing about how we are going to pay for daycare and formula and diapers and still have enough money for rent and the car payment. Is that selfish? I don't know. And I don't know what to do with my new found knowledge. Joe still doesn't want another baby even if I decide I do. Although, it may not matter because when Joe reads my post from yesterday (which he will because he reads this regularly) I will never have sex again.