I don’t know how to start this. I feel like I’m learning to write again after a hiatus of over 3 months.
Where the hell did that time go? Three months ago I wrote about adulting fatigue. I’m so over adulting, I lamented. So over being boring and cautious, thinking ahead all the damn time. After 15 months of flip flopping back and forth, the eternal question of “Do we or don’t we try for another baby?” was finally settled with a no. “No,” we said; “We’re good.” Our lives are on track. We’ve managed to keep these kids alive and thriving for the past 10 years. Our work life is stable, yet flexible. We have a mortgage now. We’re settled. Let’s not risk all this glorious stability with another baby. Let’s get a puppy instead! How wonderful.
I shared all this with you on April 14th. I really felt pretty good about our decision. I was ready to leave the miscarriage and the angst all behind me. I felt excited about launching myself into Hypnobirthing practitioner training, exploring new career opportunities for Chab after years of supporting me into my midwifery profession. I felt calm, I felt it was right. So how about that vasectomy? Mmmwell someone wasn’t too keen on that just yet. Fertility awareness or the menstrual cycle awareness method of contraception had worked pretty well. We’d just keep going with that. That was April 14th.
Two weeks later Reina, my youngest, turned 7. All four of us went to see “Birth Time”, the extraordinary documentary about birth trauma and birth choices in Australia. It sets about answering the question, “What would it take for all women to emerge from their births feeling emotionally safe and physically well?” It was an evocative, eye opening ride. My husband declared that everyone should see it. My daughters loved it and told me that if I were ever pregnant again, we should definitely have a home birth. Little did we know I was already pregnant. My period had been due that very day. It never came, and 5 long days later, that second faint pink line confirmed what I had already surmised.
Turns out my fertility awareness was rather less astute than I thought. Pretty funny for a midwife right? By my calculations, I either ovulated very early or my other half’s swimmers were particularly hardy that day. Either way, here we are!
I can’t help but feel the irony. All my analysing, all my rationalising, all my navel gazing to finally choose no, when my body had already chosen yes. The universe is clearly laughing its ass off at me. That’s cool. I’m okay with that. You have to smile. I’ve always been a pretty positive person, and I’m very happy to trust and go with the flow. It’s led me to where we are today and I have so much to be thankful for.
So that’s us. No puppy, but 16 weeks pregnant and all is well. All the tests are incredibly reassuring. Now that the nausea, vomiting, insatiable hunger and mind numbing fatigue of trimester one is over, I’m feeling more myself. I’m thrilled to have written something again, and I thank you so much for being here with me. I hope I’ll start singing again and even feel brave enough to share some #tunestuesday offerings with you. I hope I’ll soon have the energy and brain space to finalise my hypnobirthing assessment, launch my business and start giving positive birth education classes. I can’t wait to be there at that end (/starting!) point, but I think it’s fair to say that the last three months threw me something of a curve ball. This is me picking it up.