Kids are kind of a 'big' thing. At least, for me they are. For a long time in my life I never wanted to get married or have kids. I was never 'that kind of girl' I used to say. I was built to climb mountains and explore the world. I thought if I ever did get married I would be much older and MAYBE I'd adopt.
Don't get me wrong, I love kids. I always have. They are so fun. Heck, I work with kids every day. But I always wanted to be the 'fun aunt.' You know, the one that spoils their nieces and nephews rotten and they have sleepovers on my trampoline and go with me to get ice cream.
Flashback: It was the summer of 2009. I was attending an open house for the LDS Oquirrh Mountain, Utah temple and it was while I was there that I realized someday I would get married. Although, still, I thought it'd be much later in my life. God giggled, though, because three and a half years later, at the ripe young age of 19 1/2 I was married to the best man on this earth. And I knew, one day, we would have a family.
The Babe wanted a honeymoon baby. But, I told him he had robbed the cradle and he owed me five years with just the two of us. He agreed and off we went into our wedded bliss.
God giggled again, because He knew it'd be only after we were married for 3 1/2 years that we would find out it was time. You see, I always thought I'd be one of those girls who cried for months when i first found out I was pregnant and it'd be this huge ordeal. Well, I know myself well because it was a little bit like that at first . . . let me explain . . .
It was this past April. I had felt God working on me since Christmas and I knew it was time, but I was trying to ride out the gravy train and see how long I could make it until it just 'happened.' I finally talked to George about it and we felt maybe it would be time in the near future, to my reluctance, but not to really worry about it quite yet. I had also been dealing with some health problems and we were trying to decide between surgery and homeopathic remedies and I didn't feel like I could handle pregnancy and these health problems at the same time.
In April, I had wondered if I was pregnant, but every test was negative. I finally called my doctor and explained to her my symptoms and she ordered a blood test. I had to take it that Friday and so since it was afternoon on the weekend, we wouldn't know the results until Monday. We were on pins and needles all weekend. The Babe didn't know what to think, and I was a mess, crying more than I like to admit, praying that I wasn't pregnant yet because I just wasn't 'ready.' (Who is though, really?)
Monday came and I was at work when my OBGYN office called and gave me the results. My heart was pounding as the nurse on the phone said, 'Well, your levels look really good, but you're not pregnant." I was so positive I was pregnant that this came as a shock to me and I was double shocked when I actually felt a huge wave a disappointment. I never admitted that disappointment to anyone, not even The Babe, until, one night, i was sitting in bed and he sat down on the bench across from me and looked at me right in the eye and asked, "How are you feeling about all this?" It all came out in a wet pile of tears and mumbo jumbo as I explained to him my mixed feelings. He was so sweet about it and we decided that we would try to not try. Just see what happens. We both felt like it was 'time', but with a lot of factors we weren't sure how long it would take until it happened. I had finally found some positive results to my health issues using Plexus and so we decided now would be an okay time.
I wasn't sure if I was ready yet, though. We still hadn't made it to Malaysia, or Cumberland Island, or Ireland, etc etc. So many things I still wanted to do, so many places I still wanted to experience with The Babe while we were young and childless. But I sort of kind of wanted a little one, too. I had known this for a fact since Mothers Day. Mixed emotions to say the least.
It was a few weeks after my birthday. Life was good. Then one weekend I was incredibly ill with what I thought was a stomach bug. It wasn't until I had pain in my side and developed other symptoms that I told George I thought I was having a gallbladder attack and we decided to go to the ER. I haven't ever been that sick. Not since my appendix burst. The pain was so uncomfortable and George kept having to pull over on the freeway so I could throw up.
After five hours of praying to Heavenly Father in the ER bathroom to please help me and my poor husband helplessly trying to comfort me, they took me to my own room. I was so relieved. I hadn't slept in almost 48 hours and hadn't been able to keep anything down for 24. They decided to check my gallbladder again and came to the consensus that it was my Biliary Dyskinesia (scientific speak for 'your gallbladder hates you and is basically dead'). They took a pregnancy test just because and a few minutes later the nurse came in and said, "I'm going to give you Phenergan for your nausea, but I need to know if you're comfortable taking medication like that because you're pregnant!" I looked at her with tears in my eyes and said in a raspy exhausted voice, "Really?!"
Above: Me. Shocked after the news. Excuse my hospital gown, an disheveled look. It had been a long weekend . . .
In that moment I looked over at The Babe, who was in complete shock, "We're pregnant!", I said, almost disbelieving it myself. We then proceeded to ask her how positive the test actually was and what were the odds. She assured our shocked selves that it was pretty positive and that, "It had been a pretty bad day, but helping us and delivering this news made her whole day." and that the she wasn't legally able to give me the news since she wasn't the doctor, but that he'd be in to tell us soon. I was a little preoccupied after that dealing with my needle phobia as they had to poke and poke and poke to find a vein for my IV.
After processing through my ultrasound for my lovely gallbladder and soaking in all that wonderful Phenergan, the doctor came to give us the 'official' news to which I answered very drowsily, "Yaaaaaay . . . . ." and dozed off again.
The drive home was a very odd one. We rode in silence for a while and tried to process the fact that if this miracle worked out and things did what they were supposed to, we would be parents. The Babe held my hand the whole way and we decided to call our parents. We kept the news within immediate family until about 12 weeks and I had decided the little blip was going to stick around.
I sat in that car, thinking about the events of the last few months. A few loved ones had shared their good news only for it to be taken from them too soon. Which scared me. I had also gone from, being terrified I was pregnant, to hopeful that the little tiny bean would stick around to grace us with its mortal presence. I was thankful to God for the experiences he had put me through. I had been nauseated for almost a whole year thanks to my gallbladder, so that wasn't too much of a shock (although morning/all day sickness TOTALLY SUCKS). And I had finally wrapped my head around the fact that I was as ready as I would ever be for a little one.
It's amazing the things God lets us go through to get us from A to B. What a blessing it is to have His hand in my life. I still have mixed emotions about being a mom. That word, "Mom" doesn't feel like me still. Diapers and bottles don't excite me at all. And sometimes I wonder if I'll be the mom that holds the baby out at arms length and says, uh, now what? Sometimes I sit and look at my dream board at all the things I still want to do and have to remind myself that it's up to me to make those dreams happen, mom or not. Just because we become parents doesn't mean that we have to stop experiencing life. It just meas we will experience life a little differently than we thought. And, although we may not get to do all we want to, it's all worth it in the end.
There are so many adventures The Babe and I have yet to go on. We WILL go places. I will still get kissed on the top of the Eiffel tower one day. We will still get to Malaysia. We will just be doing it a little later and not be as young as we thought. But that's okay, because we will have little feet to share it with. And that makes it all the better.
Below: Me, before the drugs set in and after the shock went away long enough for me to be happy about it.