Well, sweeties, sometimes, when two Spider-Mans love each other very very much...
Okay. Not going into THAT kind of detail or anything, but still.
For those of you who were thoroughly gobsmacked by this news, trust me, I'm only about a week ahead of you on the WHAAAA? And HUHHHHH? And HOLYSHIIIII?
But let's back up. Once upon a time, there was a crazy girl who, in the end-stage throes of baby fever, practically had to twist her husband's arm into having just one single little puny baby. And after many many many months and a couple years of trying, they agreed to stick with that one single (not-so-little-or-puny) baby. Until said baby was all of five weeks old, when her husband suddenly announced, "THIS IS FUN. LET'S DO THIS AGAIN."
And so, after many many many months and a couple years of trying, they had another baby. Who was definitely supposed to be the last baby. The crazy girl even thought so too, most of the time. But then...I don't know. The crazy spread, and her husband just never seemed ready to make that appointment for the big snip, and the feeling of "completeness" that everybody talks about never really settled in to stay. Especially because dammit, these babies are AWESOME. How could you not want more awesome babies like these?
So the consensus became, "Okay, we'll keep that option open, for later, for someday. Probably not super-soon though."
Meanwhile, they both kept not-so-secretly hoping for an accident, just to spare them the actual decision-making involved with OH YES, WHAT THE HELL, LET'S DELIBERATELY HAVE THREE WHOLE SOLID CHILDREN.
We found out about my dad's leukemia on September 15th. On the 16th, Jason called the babysitter and took me out for dinner. At some point during this dinner, he looked me in the eyes and said, "I think I'm ready for another baby."
I said, "Me too."
I was already pregnant, but of course we didn't know that.
Over the next couple weeks the topic seemed to come up in conversation a lot, with friends and family, and I tried the idea on out loud, saying that yes, we were definitely going to start planning to think about actively trying for another baby. Just to see how crazy it sounded, on a scale of one to 10. Maybe a seven?
But of course, it was still all just big talk at that point, because my cycles have been just as crazy as ever over the past year. 35 days, 47 days, 56 days. We couldn't even start trying after Jason's declaration because my period would just. Not. Show up. Annoying!
I blamed the stress of this month, of course, and wondered if maybe it was a bad idea to start trying -- already a tough process for us -- in the midst of all the illness and grief and turmoil. When Jason had his health scare I couldn't even fathom the cruelty of everything -- here we'd gone from happily planning our future as a family of five to...well. Whatever. Not even worth discussing.
I had a dream about a positive pregnancy test the night before I had to drive Jason to an upper endoscopy appointment last Tuesday, because he'd be knocked out with anesthesia. I dropped him off and stopped at a grocery store for a box of tests -- I was nearly two weeks late, though I scoffed at myself in the self-checkout line anyway.
I drove home and took a test...which was screamingly, distinctly positive before I even had a chance to STAND UP. I stared at it for awhile and burst out laughing.
Then I scribbled HOLY SHIT!!!!! on the inside of a blank note card before shoving it and the test into an envelope, which I gave to a groggy, still-woozy Jason in the car immediately after picking him up after the procedure.
I thought I was about seven weeks along, so when the doctor had trouble finding anything on the ultrasound, I was concerned. When he found the gestational sac, I was relieved, until we all realized that it looked completely empty.
"Oh," I said, looking at Jason. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I even bothered thinking something this good was possibly going to happen. I should of known.
"There it is!" the doctor announced. "You're only about six weeks. Do you have long or...just kind of weird cycles sometimes?"
I was laughing already. "You have NO IDEA."
So. There it is. The most planned-for unplanned pregnancy in the history of ever. I'm going back next Monday for another ultrasound to confirm the heartbeat. (We all saw something definitely flickering, but it was too small to see for absolute sure.) I'm actually feeling pretty good, apart from the headaches, sore boobs, fatigue, bloating and lightheadedness. You know, the usual. I have no idea how in sam hill we're going to afford to buy a damn minivan and I guess I need to make good on those plans to move the boys into a single room and I have to organize the hand-me-downs and and and and etc.
I am so happy, you guys.