One Door Closes

 

Unofficially, this is a chapter that’s been closed for four years. But there’s been this little voice nagging me, unable to fully let go. A little what if? A little uncertainty that this is what’s right. Fear of going forward and being a whole-ass adult woman free to live her life. 

For four years now, we’ve been careful. I tried another birth control implant that made me feel psychotic and out of control. I think the only way it prevents pregnancy is by killing your sex drive so there’s no chance of it happening anyway. After fourteen months, I had to remove it for the sake of my relationship. Since then, it’s been good old-fashioned condoms. The plan has always been for him to have a vasectomy; to be honest, I’m not entirely sure why he hasn’t. It’s not something I can do for him, I guess? And the continued ability to produce children isn’t causing physical pain like his wisdom teeth. I don’t know...but I’ve been telling people loudly and often that I’m definitely done having kids. Whether to convince myself or perhaps to try to tempt fate once again, I’m not sure. But I started to believe it as the years went on. 

Last month we weren’t careful. We weren’t careful more than once. We weren’t careful during my peak fertility days. And as I sit here, still constipated and a little nauseous, lacking the trademark soreness in my boobs that always signals the impending start of my period, I’m struggling accepting that single, solitary line on the test I took. The one I honestly didn’t see coming with the way I’ve been feeling. Deep in my guts, I still don’t feel done. I had resolved myself to cutting us off from any more biological children, reasoning that we will be in a great position to adopt someday “when we have our life together,” if we still feel like we’re missing someone. I’m less than a year from all of my kids being in school full-time. I’m finally applying to the accelerated nursing program I should’ve started four years ago. I need another baby like I need another hole in my head. 

But when the week of my period came and I felt none of my usual symptoms, I couldn’t help myself. I Googled OBs hoping their short blurbs could tell me which one had the most high risk experience. I mentally worked another car payment into the budget to trade for a bigger passenger van. I imagined myself sheepishly telling Travis, my friends...asking my sister to save me a spot when she opens her in-home daycare again. I pinned Solly wraps and space-age baby equipment on a Pinterest board I haven’t really touched since I was carrying Willa. I tried to picture my normal daily routine with a baby in it. I refreshed myself on the benefits of red raspberry leaf tea during pregnancy. I researched the outcomes of pregnancy and delivery after uterine rupture. I looked at tiny outfits at Target. 

Yesterday was the estimated start date for my period. Today I bought a two-pack of early detection tests via Target drive-up and thought about how much more amazingly convenient life has become just since my last baby. I picked up my order with a carful of children under the age of five, in between preschool and lunch. I rushed everyone into the house, my bladder bursting, hoping I could make it to the bathroom and get the test open before I exploded. The test line showed up fast and clear. It didn’t look like another line was going to appear, but I set down the stick and walked away, busying myself with lunch preparations. I checked it after five minutes. I checked it after twenty minutes. Still just one line. Not Pregnant. 

My stomach dropped a little bit. I texted Travis that he dodged a bullet but we absolutely need to get him fixed if we don’t want anymore babies or for me to die...for real this time. It is really, truly the end. 

And I love having older kids. I always thought of myself as a baby person and had no idea what to do with older kids, but I’ve adapted and grown alongside them and I’m in love with who they’re turning out to be. They fight a lot and they’re messy and their interests don’t always interest me. They have opinions and they’re loud. But it is so much better than I ever dreamed of. I can’t saddle them with another one when our house, our car, our budget, our life are all already bursting at the seams. This is the way it’s supposed to be. 

Yes, I’m still trying to convince myself.