My husband and I are expecting our sixth child. And I’m 40.
We had always known that we wanted a large family, and did we ever knock that life goal out of the park.
I thought I was done having children the day I celebrated my thirtieth birthday. At the time, I was raising three wonderful boys and had felt that my family was complete. It wasn’t until after I survived a horrific divorce and painful custody battle (which I lost) that I met the love of my and knew that ship had not yet sailed. Especially after seeing him with my stepson.
Single-handedly, James breathed life back into me and melted my heart into a puddle of happiness. (Did I fail to mention that my soldier is also an absolute hunk and eight years younger than me?)
Our son was born a few months after my fortieth birthday. We knew the lifespan of my few remaining eggs were numbered so our plan was to get pregnant right away. However, it wasn’t until we were married for almost a year before we could conceive.
Perhaps that had something to do with living in different states. On opposite sides of the country, no less. Perhaps.
After packing up our home in Georgia for our official PCS to Washington state, we drove cross country in an old Penske rental truck. On the way, we stopped and saw family and friends as well as made an overnight stay in Keystone, South Dakota, to view the sites of Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse.
It was that evening, while we were out feasting on some of the most mouth-watering pizza we’d ever tasted (which says something considering I’m from Chicago), that it crashed over me like a fabulous typhoon. I was pregnant! Just like that, I knew.
Of course, we were beyond thrilled after receiving a call from our doctor with the official news about a month later.
The news wasn’t quite as welcomed when we discovered we were pregnant again, only six months after our son was born. Working at home as a news reporter with one baby is challenging enough. But to do so with two? It certainly felt like earth-shattering news again, but this time we were completely shell-shocked. How could this be?
I was on the pill!
I told my husband that I thought I was pregnant one evening after Xander was asleep in his crib and we were vegging in front of the TV after a long day. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me and he threw a pillow at me. He obviously was as shocked as I was about the possibility.
The next evening my husband had come around full circle and wanted to share some ideas he had for names. He smiled and said that they were even approved by friends in his unit. Apparently he was actually getting excited to have been spewing our news at work that we might be pregnant again, and before we had even told our parents! As for me, I was still in shock and hadn’t told anyone.
I had yet to absorb the idea of having another baby (and so soon!) when we heard the little heartbeat for the first time. At that moment I knew, not only had I accepted the news but I was in love. Again.
We won’t know if we’re having our first girl or our sixth boy for another four weeks. In the meantime, I keep busy chasing our curious teething nine-month-old, who is on the cusp of walking and is into EVERYTHING.
While I remain in denial that I have turned a day over 28, my nauseous and aching body most certainly feels 40.
