I've never been very good at following through with plans. Hmm. Not necessarily true. It's the timing of my plans that usually changes. Usually because of my desire for instant gratification. Once I decide I want something, I want it right now. Sometimes the timing resembles my original plan, through no fault of my own. For example, when we first got married we decided it would be good to wait until closer to at least one of our graduations before trying to have a baby. But I would go to church every week and come home in tears after seeing all the beautiful babies around. So we tried and got pregnant almost immediately. Everything was great until 5 months later when I lost that baby. And 6 months after that when I lost the next one. I suppose it all gave me incentive to finish school as quickly as possible--just 2.5 years after high school graduation. And 5 months after graduation, I had my first baby--actually somewhat in line with the original time frame I'd considered. I suppose it's possible I could have saved myself some grief if I'd been patient. Or perhaps I would have merely prolonged the inevitable.
I'm also one of the most superstitious people you'll ever meet. I'm always looking for a sign or omen to clue me in on the outcome (especially when I'm pregnant, because, face it, that's been my whole life). When baby #2 followed without difficulty, I thought my problems were over. nine months later I was proven wrong. But I figured my mother had lost 3, so I could handle losing 3, and I'd paid my dues and could just go on with life. Baby #3 came shortly after, seeming to prove my theory right. Except for the 6 losses in the past 6 years. 12 pregnancies in an 11 year span, and I decided I'd had enough.
I moved on, starting a new era of my life--past the baby making stage. I found my ideal grad school program and began the application process. Picturing being able to enjoy grad school without the drama of pregnancy and loss, I decided it was time to do something more permanent about the situation. I had on my to-do list for last week to schedule a dr's appointment for that very purpose, when I happened to look more closely at the calendar and realized that perhaps a test was in order. Sure enough, I'm pregnant again.
Now that I've had a week to get over the shock and initial fear, I find I have good hopes for this one. First, I've always rather thought 13 was a lucky number. Second, babies always like to be as inconvenient as possible, so the fact that this happened just as I decided to return to school after 10 years seems a good sign. Third, I've given away everything even remotely baby related. And last, the fact that I really actually was going to take permanent measures means that if this kid wants to come, mommy's done messing around. It's now or never. All of these things seem to indicate a positive outcome. I suppose I could include the fact that all three girls have been praying all year for mommy to have a baby--but that's been the case before and never helped a bit. I find I'm growing rather jaded. Normally a pregnancy would bring out my bargaining self. I'd work harder, pray more, study the scriptures more, serve more--all in the hopes of a desired outcome. But all the bargaining with god rarely gets me my way. So I'm feeling just a wee bit discouraged and a bit more spiteful. Which in turn makes me nervous. So mostly I'm a wreck. But I'm determined to at least be a hopeful wreck until my hope is taken away.
But I suppose one way or another, time is actually on my side. Either 1. I lose this baby, too, and will have some time to get over the worst depression before starting back at school next fall, or 2. I have the baby and have a couple months to settle into some sort of routine before classes start.
In the meantime, I'm driving myself crazy with worry with every pain in my back (though I"ve been having back trouble for several months now). My pseudo-pregnancy symptoms provide some relief, except that I know they're all in my head. I'm fully aware that I'm only feeling pregnant because I'm aware that I'm pregnant, and would not notice any change if it weren't. I know because I've been giving myself fake pregnancy symptoms for the past several years--just because I want it so badly. Morning sickness used to be one of my good signs, but I can't trust it anymore, because it, too, can be faked (not saying that others fake it, just that I do).
At any rate, I'm trying to think good thoughts. But can't help but be terrified. Even toddlers seem completely tiny now. I have no idea what I'd even do with a newborn again. I lived in the land of babies for quite some time, with all three girls born within 3 years of each other. But I'm out of that now. If this baby does come s/he will be born right around my current baby's 7th birthday. But thinking good thoughts, and everything will turn out as it should. Right?
