I Think I Might Be Pregnant | Two Under Two?

There is not a longer thirty seconds in life than the wait for the result of a Clear Blue. Whether willing for a positive or willing it away, it's hard to relax whilst you wait. I've done four since Harrison was born. Four times in five months I've sat waiting, wondering if my life will change forever again. One surprise baby has been hard enough, but two? Two under two is unimaginable to me, and if I could shake the fear of an unplanned pregnancy right now my life would be significantly less stressful.

Disclaimer: I'm not pregnant.
There is generally 99% chance of me not being pregnant. Right now, I like to think 100%. I am on Nexplanon right now, the upper arm implant, after choosing to render all personal control of my contraception away after falling pregnant on the oral pill last year. I found out I was pregnant at six months with my first baby, leaving myself with 13 weeks of pregnancy left and one hell of an adjustment to make. I missed every sign possible, sailing through the first two trimesters without as much as an inkling, and I can't help but constantly think it's happening again. I've almost accepted that I'll be doing monthly pregnancy tests for the next few years. I don't trust contraception. Falling pregnant whilst on the pill is no rarity, there's so much room for cock ups with it, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was my own fault for missing the window of time to take my pill, or if I had been on antibiotics without thinking, or if I'd been sick. But then in my head, I'm always conscious of the fact that I may have just been that 1% of women that the pill fails. And then I can't help but wonder if it could happen again?  I'm wary of everything. Literally everything.

I cannot over-eat to the point of making myself sick without thinking I've got morning sickness (China Buffet King is now very much out of the question). God forbid I gain a few pounds, then I'm already trying to figure out how I'll fit a second car seat in my dinky Hyundai. I yawn, and I'm pregnant. I fancy an omelette, and I'm pregnant. I sneeze and I'm bloody pregnant.  Last year I was all but ignoring what was hitting me in the face, this year I'm hyper vigilant. Correction, hyper vigilant isn't the word, I'm bloody paranoid. I'm not sure when the paranoia will ease up, I mean, will it ever? I can't help but wonder if I'll ever be able to fully relax in the knowledge that there is no bun in the oven now. Actually, I lied. Menopause. I'll know then. Given that I'm 22 and still a good year or two away from the big change of life, I may have to come up with something else in the meantime. For now, until I learn to trust contraception, or there comes a time that the male pill might be readily available (and I convince Jordan to be the hormonally unbalanced one), I'll be living with the little silent monster that is pregnancy.

It's funny, to so many other people the fact that I'm referring to pregnancy as a silent monster may be ridiculous. They say a baby will never be a bad thing. Harrison was never planned, and there is no way my life would be better without him here. But I just can't fathom two. Two is scary. Two is grown up territory. I can still be a baby with a baby, but I can't be with two. I can't understand how we would make it work without struggling. I have complete respect for anyone who can balance two toddlers without going stir crazy - I find it hard enough running around after one climbing monkey, but what happens when you have a newborn also? Amber from Meet The Wildes and her partner are absolute superhero's: I read their updates of two sets of twins under two and I can't help but wonder what a morning routine looks like there. Or a night routine. Or any routine for that matter. They have four and yet I'm still worrying over the prospect of two. A baby will never be a bad thing, that much is true, but I want it to be a planned thing next time, one we are ready for.

I don't want to be living day to day, I don't want Harrison to have to miss out on things he shouldn't have to and I don't want to ever go into a pregnancy filled with regret. I'm not ready for Number Two - I'm now too busy enjoying life with Number One. I can't explain how much fun this stage is with Harrison, to have a smily little baby throughout the day, to be able to sleep consistently for at least a few hours at night, and not to have to feel down all of the time.  There's a lot to be said for the amount of time it took me to get back on my feet and feeling like my self again after giving birth. I was sad for a while, and I do have the possibility of that happening again in my head. 

I want to be able to be a happy mum for a while. I’m not saying a new baby would make me unhappy, but the adjustment with my first was more difficult than I could have ever have imagined. I cried more than I could have ever imagined. I was detached and I wasn’t myself, at all. If I was to have a second, and I lost five months of Harrison’s first few years again because I was a little bit sad, or angry, I’d never forgive myself. I’m more than happy as a mum of one for now. We all just have to cross our fingers that my implant plays ball more than the oral pill did...

In the meantime, I'll probably continue to take every belly rumble as a kick, every notion for Chinese as a craving and my tighter jeans as a growing baby (rather than my growing appetite for Easter Eggs).

PS If you made it to the end of this post, disclaimer: I'm still not pregnant.

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