I am still in my thirties. I have two children. Alexander is 16 and Elizabeth is 13, soon to be 14.
Two years ago, I found out I was pregnant. Not a complete surprise, since we had been trying to conceive. David was extremely excited, which may come as a surprise to some, (especially since our kids were then 14 and 12) because I know husbands can sometimes be not so excited about things like that. But David is a wonderful man, and he was excited.
I was not experiencing any morning sickness, but I wasn’t concerned, since with Elizabeth, I hardly had any at all. But the pain that I was having, I couldn’t remember if that was normal. I wasn’t having it every day, but when I did have it, it was severe. After I drank some water or liquid though, I felt a lot better, so it must not be serious.
It was Valentine’s Day. I had finished up school for the day and decided to try to take a nap, since I was having the pain again. I thought that it was just really, really bad gas and if I took a nap, I might feel better. I was in pain. Napping was doing no good. I tried to stand up, but all I could do was double over in pain. I had my daughter call our neighbor, who is a nurse. Anne-Marie came over and pretty much ordered me to go with her to the Emergency Room with her. She drove me and called David, who met us there. Since I was expecting, I was pretty much in a room without having to wait in the waiting room very long. I honestly thought it was really bad gas.
The doctor said there was liquid above my abdomen and wanted to try to do an ultrasound. They couldn’t figure out what was going on. But after a couple of hours, and a bunch of tests, they decided to do laproscopic surgery and find out what was going on.
During the whole ordeal, I was pretty much at peace. I knew God was in control, but I also knew that the doctor said it might be a tubal pregnancy, since he couldn’t find the baby on the ultrasound. (I was only 4 weeks at the time, so they might not be able to see it anyway.)
After the surgery, I found out the baby had, for some reason gone outside of the womb and attached itself to my abdomen. That was where the blood was coming from. It was very unusual, I guess, but not completely unheard of. There was no way the baby could have lived–and I don’t know if it was alive at the time–it was so tiny, I couldn’t make out any features in the picture I was given. I was just in pain, now and wanted to go home to sleep. They kept me overnight, and let me go the next day. I was in bed on drugs for the rest of the day.
It really hit me that we had lost our baby when one of my friends from church came over with a meal for our family. People usually get meals when a baby is born, or when someone dies. I got flowers from our church–and those two events made it real and I was devastated. Part of me felt stupid for mourning a baby that was only 4 weeks old. I mean, I hadn’t even felt it move, and there were so many people that had lost “real” babies. But I was still sad and cried a lot. I got a lot of comfort from people that had lost babies, and told me their stories. There are so many that have lost children that I had no idea. I had become part of that club.
I always said we would try again, but once we were able to try again, I didn’t even want to. I felt like I had tried to orchestrate the whole thing and that I had failed. (I know this is completely ridiculous, but they were my feelings at the time.) I resigned myself to not have any more natural children.
The subject of adoption had always been in the forefront of our minds, and we decided, after a year and a half, to try that route. We had even filled out our paperwork. But we were stuck. Adoption is very expensive and neither of us knew how we could afford to adopt. But we knew that if God wanted us to adopt, that he would make a way for us to do so. We put it on the back burner and started to seek God about finances and what we should do.
In the middle of December, I began to suspect something was up. It wasn’t until January that I took a test and found out I was pregnant. We were very surprised, to say the least. I have no idea how it happened–you know what I mean. This had to be God’s answer to the adoption issue. At least for now.
When I went to the doctor and found out I was even further along than I thought, it just confirmed that it was a God thing. There is no way we should have gotten pregnant at that time, but we did. I wasn’t even close to ovulating, but I guess I was, unknown to me. That was probably the only scenario I would have been pleased with. To know that it was God, and that we weren’t trying, that it just happened.
So now, I am 19 weeks along. I am starting to feel a little movement. The baby is in the right place and I think it might be a boy. At first, I felt really old. (I am considered to be high-risk, since I am over 35) But then I have met so many people that have had children at my age. (I’m not telling you how old, just that I am still in my 30’s. I guess I still feel a little old.) There are actually a couple of ladies at our church who are in their 40’s and expecting.
Our daughter is very excited. She already has the baby’s room already planned. It took Alex awhile to get used to the idea, but he is warming up. (He’s at that age where he knows how babies happen and was probably a little embarrassed about having his friends find out that his parents are having another baby.) Both of us are also very excited. I know a lot of people would groan and be very unhappy to find out they are expecting late in life, but we are actually excited. (I’m sure that will wear off, once we experience midnight feedings, diapers, etc.)
Once Alex turned 10, I thought we were done. It would be a huge gap between children. But I guess God had different plans. I actually come from a family that has two sets of children. My sister and I are two years apart. My brother was born when I was 10. My 2 youngest sisters were born ever later than that. I was going to college the year that my youngest sister was starting Kindergarten. I didn’t really get a chance to live with them for very long, but our relationships now are pretty cool. Even though I still feel a little insecure about my age, I’m still very excited about having a third baby. David is beyond happy.
We get to go to the doctor for an ultrasound to find out what it is in a couple of weeks. Both of us think it is a boy. In fact, we have had several people say they think it is a boy. One of my friends dreamt it was a boy. I actually don’t care what it is, and won’t be disappointed if it is a girl. As long as it is healthy.