When I received the positive pregnancy test, I wasn’t met with feelings of excitement and joy; rather, I experienced intense fear and anxiety. I had just been to my priest to confess that I had been having thoughts about abortion if I were to become pregnant again. Shocking, I know. If you know me, you will also be very shocked to see me write that. I am a devout Catholic yet there I was, contemplating abortion if I were to ever become pregnant again. I didn’t feel like I could handle another child.
I was already extremely irritable and distant with my kids. I already felt run down to the max trying to care for them and to be there for them. I already felt extreme exhaustion trying to manage my household and enjoy my marriage and children. I had experienced suicidal thoughts and intrusive thoughts after I had my last baby. I did not want to suffer through baby blues and postpartum depression ever again. And I had just finally started to feel “normal” again after having lost a child the year before.
There were other concerns as well. My age was one. Being over 40 at the time was a huge concern and worrying about issues, disorders, and conditions with the baby and the risks of an older woman being pregnant, were among them. There was not much I would have control over either. I also wanted to retire at some point with my husband and have an empty home. Having another child would render that nearly impossible, especially if the child were to have special needs.
Much of my thoughts seemed to be selfish. I certainly wanted to be alive for my living children and a pregnancy at my age could cause my demise but most of my concerns were selfish. This was a motivating factor in seeing my priest. I just couldn’t handle another pregnancy so if I were to become pregnant, I told him I was considering abortion. I wasn’t pregnant at the time I confessed this. I had only gone in because my husband and I had not been careful the month before and I was actually relieved that I did not become pregnant. I was panicking though, because I knew that we would make another “mistake” in practicing natural family planning and we might not be so lucky the next cycle.
You see, we don’t use any form of contraception. We have been tracking my cycles for 19 years. For 18 of those years, we were trying to become pregnant. We finally became pregnant for the first time after seven years of marriage. I was mostly infertile for those 20 years of marriage but we always joked that God would somehow make me fertile in my 40’s. Apparently, we were correct.
As I got older, I became more fertile and this became a challenge later. Since every cycle was purely another attempt at conceiving, we found ourselves in a precarious situation when we all of a sudden needed to avoid sex during the most fertile time. I will say that it is an extreme challenge and we felt shameful that we had never mastered this. After all, we were in our 40’s so we should have this mastered. In our 18 years of marriage (at the time), we had only used a condom once and that was a horrible experience.
Having always given our full selves to each other, using a barrier made us feel sick and used. Instead of feeling close to each other, we felt like we were selfish and used each other as a pleasure toy. This did not go over well in our relationship but since both of us felt the same way, it was something we vowed we would never do again. We would have to master avoiding each other during our most fertile time.
After my confession, I left feeling empty. I did not feel good like I normally did. I felt like something was missing and I remember walking through the parking lot thinking to myself, “That was pointless.” I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe I wanted him to tell me no? Maybe I wanted him to tell me some amazing story about how I will be converted to being open to life again? All I remember him saying was that women my age struggle with this and I wasn’t alone. That didn’t seem helpful at all.
As the next few days progressed, my fertile time came. It was impossible to avoid. We were like teenagers who could not hold ourselves back. It doesn’t help that we are intrinsically designed to desire each other during the fertile time and that it is the time where it is the most pleasurable. God wasn’t dumb in making this so.
I prayed that I would not conceive. I worried that I would and prayed hard that I wouldn’t. As the days progressed though, I went through times of panic about having to choose abortion and times of openness to life and feeling like I could do it if I were pregnant. By the time the pregnancy test was positive, I had experienced a conversion. I was at peace with being open to life despite being extremely scared and anxious that I had found myself in this position.
I messaged my sister right away and told her I was pregnant but that I couldn’t do this. I didn’t feel like I could but I knew I couldn’t kill the new life inside me. I tried to justify it though, thinking that I was only 3 weeks 4 days pregnant and it’s not really anything but a ball of cells. I thought about not taking vitamins, drinking alcohol, not taking progesterone supplements, and other things that could potentially be harmful but I knew I was only hurting myself and of course, not providing for the baby inside me.
I struggled. It was hard. I didn’t think I could love the baby inside me. I was concerned with loss and how I would manage another loss. I thought a lot about and planned this child’s funeral. I had plan, after plan, after plan as my pregnancy progressed. If the baby dies at this gestation, I will do (blank) and have (blank), and ask for (blank) and plan for (blank). It was a constant planning for the death of this baby.
I talked with my sister numerous times about how I didn’t think I could do this but somehow I was doing it. I never really thought past going to the hospital. This brought on some anxiety about if I would love my daughter, how I would fit her into our life, and I was extremely scared about baby blues and postpartum depression.
I wished she would just die inside me in the first trimester. I knew how to plan for that. I knew how to manage it and I knew how to grieve that loss. Morning sickness was horrible and I blamed her for it. I almost hated her for it but then I took solace in it because being sick likely meant she was healthy and growing. It was such a roller coaster. Yes, there were times I was excited. The kids really made me happy because they were excited. They were overjoyed and hubby was ecstatic about another baby. When we discovered the baby was a girl, he was over the moon and just wanted her out so he could be her daddy.
Those were the times that really helped me to feel better about the journey we were on. My pregnancy was so hard. I couldn’t exercise. I couldn’t even walk. I was pretty much bound to my couch and even my couch hurt. I sat in the chair in my room more than anything because it was one of the only places where my pubic bone didn’t hurt. I blamed her for that too. I am surprised she lived but I knew she was strong. Because she was strong, I needed to be strong.
I made plans with several care providers to help reduce the baby blues and depression but I didn’t know if they would work. I had back up plans for back up plans. But as I worried about these things, I didn’t think I would be taking a living baby home. My prayers began to change because as she grew, I wanted her to be born alive. “God, please let me bring this baby home alive.” The plans for combating the depression really helped and we worked with a doula to help with my concerns about labor.
We also came up with postpartum plans and hired a postpartum doula. These were imperative to helping reduce baby blues and postpartum depression. Hubby knew I would need daily naps and he was prepared to do what was needed to keep me mentally sound. If he wasn’t so supportive, I don’t know where I would be headed.
When I labored with her, I didn’t think I would actually see her alive. Her heart was beating like crazy but I still felt like apathy towards the whole situation. I questioned why my induction wasn’t working and felt like my emotional state and how I felt about this baby was blocking my induction from working. I literally would have contractions for an hour and then they would fizzle away. Pitocin would be turned up. I would contract for an hour and they would again fizzle. Up the Pitocin, repeat. Up the Pitocin and repeat.
I wasn’t even in labor with the Pitocin. I would contract but they weren’t that bad and if I did have any contractions that were remotely uncomfortable, they didn’t last. Labor was enjoyable and we had a grand old time. Once things picked up, I literally had her within 35 minutes.
Somehow, the moment she was born and I placed her on my chest, everything was perfect and right. Yes, I placed her on my chest. My husband caught her, the doctor untangled the cord, and she was passed to me where I set her on my chest and instantly, all was right with my world. ALL was right in my life. I was at complete peace and there were no worries about her, about me, about anything. For some reason, I felt like I could handle it all now. I would have to but I wasn’t feeling pressured or like I was being forced. This was my calling. I was now the mother to a daughter. A daughter so strong and fierce she could withstand my power. A daughter whom I know, will change me.
She already has.