Blessings

There was a night, about 13 years ago, I came home from work, got in the shower, and barely had enough energy to wash my hair. I remember thinking to myself that it was a good thing my kids were old enough to fend for themselves for dinner.

At that time, my daughter was 20, my oldest son was 18, and my youngest son, was 13. All were completely capable of making grilled cheese. I was so glad they were at a stage in their lives where they needed me less and less for daily rituals like dinner. I finally had a little freedom. I could finally relax more, and take some time for myself. My life was not as demanding as it was when they were all younger.

Two weeks after that shower, I found out I was pregnant. 

My husband has always told me he wanted a child. My three older children are from my first marriage. My husband has never called them his stepchildren. He has always, since day one, referred to them as his children. But, they weren’t his biological children and he desperately wanted to have a child of his own.

He told me on our first date, while we sat at a restaurant, eating chicken pot pies and sipping on unsweet teas, he wanted to have a child. And then asked if I was willing to have more children. It was more like a job interview than a first date. I really wanted the job, so I nodded yes while I had my fingers crossed behind my back. I figured, I will get the job, and then change his mind afterwards. Kids are overrated.

But, there I was, staring down at a stick that said, at the age of 40, I will be having another baby. 

I didn't trust that stick. So, every day, for a week, I would drive my 13-year-old to school, then head over to the local general store to buy a pregnancy test. A test that worked.

But stick after stick, they all said the same thing. Pregnant. The clerk behind the counter asked me one day if I was trying to get pregnant. She noticed that I came in every day, purchasing the same thing. I told her that every test I bought was broken. I was trying to find a test that said negative. She looked at me confused. I paid for my test and left. It was time to face the fact.

I was pregnant. And I had to tell my husband. 

To say he was overjoyed is an understatement. He called everyone he knew. He posted the news on Facebook. He started making arrangements for the nursery. He went and bought furniture. I hadn’t even made a doctor’s appointment yet. His excitement was uncontrollable. And contagious. I reasoned with myself. This is a chance to co-parent.

My older children were very young when their dad and I divorced. I had always been a single parent. This was my chance to share the joys and responsibilities of a new baby with an equal partner. This baby will also bind our little family together. And, after delivering the news to my older children, their reactions confirmed that this new baby would be the best time of our lives. 

Our son was born in September, twelve years ago, and has been nothing but a joy. When he was first born, my husband would never put him down. He took him everywhere and showed him off to the world.  He has been the absolute best partner on this journey, where our lives took an unexpected but much needed detour.

My older children are grown and out in the world but are all very close with their little brother.  Our little one is the only one of our children still at home. He keeps my husband and me busy with sports and homework. He has lots of friends, and is an all- around great kid.

And, I have found  the energy to do it all again. I have a theory that the human body stores pockets of energy and hides them in fat cells. When you feel like your body has reached new depths of exhaustion, those pockets burst open and keep you going. 

Five years after our son was born, my husband asked if we could have another baby. ABSOLUTELY not. I was up front and direct. I advised him that in no way, shape or form are we having another baby. I was completely straightforward and firm with my answer. Unlike our first date, I already had the job. And, I was not looking for a promotion.

-Desiree