Life will find a way indeed, and so thankful it does!
Upfront: prior to my wife and I getting together, I had accepted the fact that I was likely not going to have any more children. As our relationship progressed, I slowly let myself believe that I still may have another chance. Once I knew I wanted to marry her, the possibilities began to build, small conversations and comments about the future began to be dropped between the both of us. After we got engaged, and we knew we were spending our lives together, my then fiance, went off birth control. So we had about 7 months prior to getting married where we weren’t necessarily trying to get pregnant, but we weren’t trying to avoid it either. We had a socially distant wedding at the beginning of April just before you couldn’t congregate in large groups. Those few months leading up to the wedding, we found ourselves really starting to hope. We were hopeful each month and was met with equal and building disappointment each time. Once we were married, we really started buckling in on this idea of being parents together. Because of some family history and the fact we hadn’t gotten pregnant yet we started laying out the plans for doctor visits and checkups to see what was going on. COVID of course slowed this down, but once restrictions started lifting, the first steps began.
She was convinced the issues lied in her, partially because of that aforementioned family history. I however was convinced the issues were with me, and in a way I wanted them to be, for me to carry the burden. I also hated the thought of it being me, that my wife would marry a slightly older man, only to find out after having 2 kids earlier in life, his boys had given up. I hated the thought of it being me, but at the same time, if we were having any issues conceiving, I wanted them to be on me, not her.
Our course of action was laid out; she’d go to the doctor first, get checked out, talk to the doctor, and we’d move forward with getting my sperm check, etc, etc. She goes to the doctor, and unbeknownst to me at the time (to keep me from worrying more than I had already started to), informed him that she felt like she had a cyst on one of her ovaries. He agreed and scheduled her for an ultrasound.
The ultrasound was scheduled for the beginning of the next week, so we had all weekend to ponder and begin considering our options. (Again because of different variables, we were already coming to terms with the feelings that we wouldn’t be conceiving naturally).
The next doctor appointment rolls around, the Doctor checks my wife out, and in a crazy turn discovers that rather than a cyst, she is in fact pregnant. One urine test later to confirm; and my wife walks out of the doctor’s office with the knowledge that she is in fact pregnant. Understand; she walked into this Doctor’s office with the expectations of being told that something was wrong or that she’d not be able to have children, and walked out with a 180 different scenario.
She manages to hide this from me until the evening once she gets home. I had gotten home before her so I was outside mowing and working in the yard. She gets home, goes into the house to get Penny, to bring her out for a walk, and to take some pictures of her with her new bandanna. (This isn’t anything out of the ordinary as our dog has a more successful social media presence than all of mine put together). Of course, I stop what I’m doing to come over to my wife to say hi, give her a kiss, and get a reading off of her regarding her doctor’s visit as she hadn’t said much about it that afternoon. She asks for my help with Penny and seeing if I’d adjust her bandanna for photos.
A bandanna that has “Big Sister” written on it.
Here comes a confession: I act goofy to contain and hide my emotions because, well there were so many going on at once, I don’t know what would have come out first. I wanted to laugh, cry, jump up and down, and countless other things. Honestly, I’m still kinda reeling from it all. I started that day off expecting the worst, hoping for the best and never once considering the possibility that I’ll be holding my newborn baby a few months after turning 40.
This is going to be a crazy, insane adventure, and I’m going to cherish and soak up every single second of it.