I was tired. Five months into motherhood, I was used to being tired. I'd spent the last few months praying to one day sleep again and maybe even to regain the sanity that sleep deprivation had stolen. Those first months of motherhood had been harder than I had ever imagined. Good, but hard.
I was also irritable. Again, part of the new mommy job description. I was trying to stifle the irritability. We were, after all, about to spend the long Thanksgiving weekend with my inlaws, whom I love. So I hoped that I could keep my crankiness in check.
My husband, somewhat numb to the crankiness by now, joked that maybe I was pregnant. Because, goodness knows, I was tired and cranky when I was pregnant. Huge, tired, and cranky. I rolled my eyes and informed him that was not a possibility.
"Well, then take a test."
I agreed, simply to shut him up.
When we got to my inlaws' house, we talked for a bit, and then my husband announced that he needed to run to the store to pick up a few things that we forgot. My father-in-law, not one to cool his jets at home, volunteered to accompany him, and my brother-in-law joined in for good measure. I smirked at the thought of my husband smuggling that unnecessary pregnancy test through the checkout line and out the door without either of them seeing.
Apparently, my husband is sneakier than I previously believed. He confessed to my brother-in-law what he was buying, and they conspired together to sufficiently distract my father-in-law while the test was purchased.
When they got back, I went into the bathroom to take the test. The sooner the better. Then I could tell my husband he was silly and go on about my weekend, and no one would know.
But the test came back with a definitive, "Pregnant." It was one of the digital tests that leaves no room for doubt.
I stared at it in disbelief. Shook it so it would change back. It didn't budge.
Feeling weak, I leaned against the vanity in that small guest bathroom and stared blankly at the green walls. Finally, I called to my husband who was nonchalantly talking with his family in the next room.
When he came in I showed him the test and leaned hard into him. The tears started to fall. I thought of all the missed sleep, all the baby gear, the months and months of uncomfortable pregnancy. I thought about telling my bosses at the law firm where I had started work as a brand new associate two months earlier, and I cried some more. Then I felt guilty for being upset--this was a new precious baby whom I was just sure I would learn to love because all children are gifts from God. But I didn't feel blessed, just overwhelmed. So I sank into the guilt and cried some more.
I am not a pretty crier, and there was no hiding the severe puffiness from my inlaws. So, we didn't try. We swore them to secrecy while we tried to digest the news.
We spent the weekend with them trying to joke about the circumstances. I did the math--my sweet baby who was just learning that nighttime was for sleeping would be 14 months old when this new one was born. They would be one year apart in school. We'd need that infant carrier for the second one just as soon as the oldest outgrew it.
That Sunday, we went to church, where I tried to pray. I begged God for peace, for love for this new life He had given. And an old hymn my great-grandmother used to sing began to play...
When upon life's billows you are tempest tossed,
When you are discouraged thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.
I can't hear that hymn without seeing her singing it and then ending with "One, Two, Three..." as she pointed to each of her children and grandchildren--her blessings. I cried again, and for the first time rested in the truth that I was blessed. Very loved and very blessed.
To be continued.
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