I thought I was one and done. DD has just turned seven. I’m 41. Now I’m pregnant again and it’s thrown both DH and me into a complete panic. I feel an overwhelming sense of… dread. I can't feel happy about it at all.
Last time round, the pregnancy itself wasn't too bad. It was the birth and the early years that were extremely challenging. I put a lot of pressure on myself. DD was a terrible sleeper (still isn’t great, to be honest) and I found the constant sleep deprivation really hard to cope with. The relentless drudgery of nappies and feeding. The lack of personal space. The hormonal changes and the toll it all took on my body. The breastfeeding, which I enjoyed overall, but which also felt like a burden. I put on a lot of weight during pregnancy and it took me years to muster the energy to eat well and exercise and lose enough to feel like myself again. The tedious baby classes. Structuring our days around naps. All the extra life admin. Finding a nursery (we live somewhere where it’s really difficult to get a place). In the early days, I often found myself thinking ‘Why the fuck did we do this?’ Obviously there were also good bits, but it was HARD, and didn't come naturally at all.
Now it feels like we’re in a completely different stage. DD is fun to be around; she’s interesting and funny and affectionate. I finally feel comfortable in my own skin again. I have time to myself. DH has time to himself. DD entertains herself for long periods and seems perfectly content as an only child. Family holidays and days out are actually enjoyable now. Just the thought of setting ourselves back nearly eight years and having to go through all that again seems absolutely mad. I feel too old for that crap.
But we’re not sure we can face having an abortion, either. We can afford another child. We have secure jobs with generous parental leave allowances. We have the space. I know we would love the baby and find a way to cope. And then there’s the fact that this pregnancy wasn’t entirely accidental. I let DH talk me into ‘letting fate decide’ a few times, thinking I was probably too old anyway and I’d probably be OK with it if it did happen. Well, turns out I’m not. [DH is now also a ball of anxiety, saying he hadn't thought it through and didn’t realise how overwhelming it would feel.] Part of me feels that we should have to live with the consequences of our ill-thought-out actions. And I know that, although we would feel relief at first if I had an abortion, there would also be huge sadness, and perhaps shame, and thoughts of ‘what if’, probably for many years to come.
I have been known to freak out when faced with big life changes, so maybe this is partly only me going through the process of getting my head in the right place. I did this when I got pregnant the first time round too, to a lesser extent. But then again, I also think we have very valid reasons for not wanting another child. DH and I have been discussing it and keep going round in circles.
I know this is not a decision anyone else can take for us, but I needed to write it all down. Any thoughts or pearls of wisdom would be much appreciated!