Bursting to Tell

I am now a bit over seven weeks pregnant with my fourth child.  Last week, my husband and I decided we should tell our two oldest girls, ages 10 and 8.  We sat them down at bedtime and told them that we had something big to share with them.  My oldest, who is currently participating in the "Changing Me" unit in school said, "Let me guess.  You guys had sex and now you are going to have another baby." Uhh what? Huh? Where did that damn invisibility button go? Who thought this was a good idea?

Sweat started to form around my husband's brow line.  The look on his face said, "If there was an escape hatch in a child's rooms, where would I find that?"  We explained that while some things were private between grown-ups, yes we were going to have another baby.  Cheers ensued followed by bickering about where the baby would sleep.  We were happy.  We had told the two most important people and they were happy.  We can keep it a family secret for a few more weeks, right?

Well, there is just one hitch in keeping a secret.  ME.  I am bursting to tell everyone.  I am tired and nauseous all the time.  I am puffy in the face and squishy in the middle and my weight loss efforts to lose the baby weight from my last pregnancy have suddenly ceased.  I want to explain why I look so bad.  I want to share what is happening with me. I want to jump and scream and smile until my face hurts.

Having another child had been in the master plan, but I wasn't expecting it so soon.  I am a little freaked out. I am suddenly overwhelmed with the three I have right now, which could be from the pure exhaustion of the first trimester, or it could be my own mind spinning out of control about how I will manage four.   I am much more weepy and short tempered than my last pregnancy, which could be hormonal or could be exhaustion.  I want to share with people how freaked out I am.  I want to revert to being a child myself and run and tell my mommy and daddy so they can tell me it will all be okay. 

I haven't been to the doctor's office yet and I haven't heard the heart beat.  The rational side of me wants to wait to tell until I have been to the doctor's office because when I am not feeling queasy, I question whether perhaps three pregnancy tests could be wrong.  Maybe I'm not pregnant, but have a mild stomach bug that has stayed with me for weeks.  It could happen.  Maybe I'm tired because I have three children and a full time job and not because I am nursing, in my first trimester, and haven't had a good night sleep or a nap in months.  My head is playing tricks on me.  My rational and irrational side are arguing, and I don't know which to route for.

I want to tell people to make it seem more real.  I want to tell people to keep me sane.  I want to tell people to excuse my current appearance and semi-nutty behavior.  I want to tell people because, while I am incredibly freaked out, I am also very excited.

What do you mean there are TWO pink lines?

I am not a blogger by nature. I talk to my best friend, I text, I Facebook, I email....but I don't blog. That is, until a week ago when two pink lines showed up. Since that time, I have had the uncontrollable urge to write. Here is the short history of how I came to be a mommy of....GULP....four.

I am currently the mother of three children (and one on the way). My two oldest girls, ages 8 and 10, are from a previous marriage. Three years ago, I survived a horrible divorce. Shortly after, I met someone...a someone I liked....a someone I liked A LOT. The only catch was that he wanted children of his own. I wrestled with myself for awhile over whether I was willing to have more children. I love my two girls, but raising them while juggling a terrible marriage wasn't easy. Although I always wanted a big family, I was emotionally exhausted and running on empty from raising two. With the divorce came a new found freedom and endless possibilities. Rushing back into mommyland wasn't top on my 'to do' list.

The idea of having more children scared me. So why not just walk away?  Certainly there are more fish in the sea-fish that weren't interested in having guppies of their own.  The problem was that I was in love...REALLY in love. I was also enamoured with the idea of having a real family...the kind with a great husband, family dinners, vacations, and holidays. The kind of family that would make Norman Rockwell rise from the grave and paint my story. I missed the warm, milky newborn breath on my cheek, the drippy open-mouthed 'kisses' of a baby, strawberry fingerprints on my pants that marked the height of a toddler hug, and paperclip necklaces I wore proudly in public for weeks.

The wonderful man (and the life filled with possibilities that came with the man) won me over. Within a year of marriage, my husband and I welcomed a beautiful baby boy. He is the most wonderful baby. I feel love. I feel competent. I feel in control. I feel blissful. I feel blessed.

My husband and I talked about having more. Our reservations about expanding our family revolved around his constant travel, my return to school for my PhD, the full-time careers of both of us, and the hectic schedules of our three children. On Tuesday we decided that we would wait to expand our family. On Wednesday, I double checked my calendar to make sure I had calculated correctly. On Thursday, I yelled at someone at work for no good reason. It was one of those blood boiling, heart pounding, sweaty, irrational kind of anger spells. I never yell. I never getting really worked up like that unless......oh crap. I'm pregnant.

I rushed to the store, bought three tests. Before picking up my kids from school, I rush home to test my theory. First test-two pink lines. THAT CAN'T BE RIGHT. Second test-two pink lines. CRAP. Third test-two pink lines. You have GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!

So here I sit in the very early stages of pregnancy, getting ready to be a mother of four children, hoping that a blog will ground me in some way. So stay tuned, I am sure it will be an interesting story.