Growing up, I always wanted 3 or 4 children. I loved babies and wanted a bunch of my own. When I met my husband, he had 2 children of his own. I still wanted 2 more, yet he only wanted 1 more. We got married with that number still not agreed upon, and soon after we decided to try for a baby. After trying for two months, we found out we were pregnant. I was ecstatic. I could not wait to embrace and experience every. single. part. of pregnancy and birthing and motherhood.
I blogged about each step of the way and happily enjoyed watching my body grow and develop and grow a child. We fairly easily decided on a name, Farrah Oakley, and I gave birth to her by C-section on June 14, 2015, because of her breech positioning, after having my water break nonetheless. I stayed in the hospital for 3 nights with my perfect baby girl while it rained outside and I didn't want to be anywhere else. All I wanted to do was to be there with her, nurse her, change her diapers, and hold her.
For two years, I was so very obsessed with her. She has been my world. The prettiest thing to me. We made it through her first year and I kept track of every milestone, hurting a little inside as she grew from each stage to the next. I hated packing away her baby clothes and moving her crib down lower when she started to stand.
Her second year was even better than the first. She was my best friend. She dreaded days I had to take her to daycare, and never wanted to leave my side. She started to become more independent and would sometimes ask to go to the farm with Daddy or to play with her older brother and sister, but it didn't hurt because of the way she looked for me when she returned, and how she would tell me all about her adventures. We painted our nails together and played baby dolls together.
I continued to think about having another baby, especially when people around me got pregnant or when people asked if we were going to have any more, but when my husband and I discussed it, it never was in our plans. I would argue my side that I thought Farrah needed a close-in-age sibling to grow up with and go to school with, and that I didn't want to be a biological mother to only one due to the fact that he had multiple children before we were married. I wanted to experience pregnancy again and have another birthing story, another child to call me mommy. He argued that Farrah would be fine, we could spoil her and encourage her to be and do amazing things, that she already has a brother and a sister, we didn't want to prolong the ability to have time to ourselves when the children are grown, and that he was going to be an older father which he did not want to be.
Then, we found ourselves with the unexpected news of being pregnant again when Farrah was 2 years, 3 months old.
It's what I always thought I wanted, until it was here. It's hard to put into words the feelings I experienced but I'll try. I was devestated. I was embarrased. I felt ugly, and scared, and confused.
We were finally to a place where we had money saving in the bank. We had just gotten through Farrah's rotten baby sleepless nights and car terrors, and we were able to have an awesome family vacation just months before. We had just the right amount of space in the vehicle with Farrah's car seat in the middle seat and a big kid on each side (even though we have an entire third row usually unused).
We had recently rearranged our working schedules and Keane was working on the farm and I found a part-time office manager position fairly close to home and really close to the kids' school and Farrah's daycare, where I could work 3 days a week and spend extra time at home with my baby girl who refers to herself as "Mama, your baby..." I was pretty sure I was going to have to work full-time for several years now and lose that time I got with Farrah and my husband and the bigger kids during the summer months.
I didn't have health insurance and the cash price for the doctor, labor, and delivery approximated to roughly $18,000.00. We were two months away from having our basement finished, finally, and Keane really needed a new truck. The frame of his was broken and the air conditioner no longer worked, and he certainly needed a reliable truck.
How were we going to make this work, financially and emotionally and physically?
I hated the feelings I felt inside. More than anything, I hated that things were going to change for Farrah. I have held her at such a high and precious place in my heart and life and I never, ever wanted that to change. I did not ever want her to not be my baby. I didn't ever want to have to share less time or express less love to her because I have to give it to another child. I never, ever wanted to even imagine a single night that I don't put Farrah to sleep like I have every night. I didn't feel like I had room in my heart for a baby.
I feared for my relationship with my husband whom I love and cherish more than anything in this world. He felt betrayed and angry. He has always admitted that he's not much on babies and he's a better father to them when they are two and older. He dreaded the stress that babies cause, and he didn't want anything to make Farrah feel less important, to not feel like our baby girl, and to not get all the attention like she had thus far.
I wished so badly I could go through pregnancy secretly. I dreaded the size I was going to grow to and the aches and pains associated with it. I did not want to celebrate or have a baby shower or pick out names. It just seemed entirely different this time around. I guess because we weren't expecting it or planning for it. Our minds have so much power over our emotions.
When I thought to the future at all, I ached. I wanted to hide away but life wasn't letting me. Keane looked at me and held me and said he didn't want us to do anything that we would regret for the rest of our lives. He texted me that we are a big family. But I felt that worries kept covering up any hope we gained.
I needed God and peace and comfort. The day after finding out, I was at work and I received a text message from Farrah's daycare teacher, Emily, that read: "As we get ready for lunch I heard Farrah praying, so I asked her what she was praying for and she looked up and said 'I pray for Mama.'"
I started to look online at all the families that had 4 or more children and looked to see if they had smiles on their faces and I wanted to ask them all how they felt when they had their second or their last. Everyone seemed to just do it.
Days passed and weeks passed. We didn't talk about the pregnancy much which made it harder. But eventually I started getting insurance figured out and we discussed daycare options and my belly began to grow. It became reality and I starting talking to Farrah about what if a new baby came, and she really seemed to like the idea. At first she didn't seem to like the idea of the baby growing in my belly or that I would hold the baby when it was home. She mentioned things like Daddy holding the baby instead of me.
After awhile though, she kept saying things like, "Mommy, I excited for new baby to come home." She was really excited to give it a paci and hold it. These things soothed my heart more than maybe it should have.
At 16 weeks, I am happy to say I'm more comfortable with the idea of adding another human into our lives. I am still weary about baby nights and breastfeeding with a toddler. We plan to have the two littles share a room in the beginning and I'm slightly nervous about that. I don't know if I need to trade in my Traverse for a van for easier access and more room for all the kids. I'm not sure if we can afford me working part-time, and I know by this time next year we will need to find insurance for our family. There are still some unknowns, but I do know we will love and care for this new baby like we do for Kaden, Kylie, and for Farrah.
Farrah likes to pretend she has a baby in her belly and asks to touch and kiss my belly at times. We talk about the baby more and I have started a baby name list. I am okay with the next 24 weeks or so taking their time, but I'll be ready to embrace our newest baby when it arrives.
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