I want to start out by saying that this is a very personal post. I have never shared this entire story publicly, but somehow it just seemed like the right time to get it all out there so to speak. So here goes…
I always said that I never wanted kids. Luckily for me, my then-husband agreed with me. At the time we were happily married and life was good. We had all the freedom in the world!
Then one day it hit me – I was 29 years old and I certainly wasn’t getting any younger. Baby fever had finally stuck me and it struck hard. I wanted to get pregnant as soon as possible. So one day during my lunch hour at work, I sat down and made a list of pros and cons that I would present to my husband in an effort to convince him that I had a change of heart and was ready to have a baby.
The conversation went surprisingly well. He was very supportive and we both agreed that we would start trying immediately. Three weeks later I was pregnant. I had an amazing pregnancy – It was the best I had ever felt and on August 3, 2004, the baby boy that I had anxiously waited 9 months to meet was finally here. Looking at his perfect face, I couldn’t even imagine that time in my life when I didn’t want kids.
Being a mom completely changed my life. I became a better person and have never loved anyone or anything so hard in all my life, but deep down I always knew I was meant to have two babies. I sat my then-husband down again, two years after we had our first, and told him that it was time to have our second and final baby. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy to get pregnant the second time around. After about 6 months of actively trying, I made an appointment with my OB/GYN. My husband had his sperm count tested a few times over a several month period and everything came back normally. So almost after trying for nearly a year to get pregnant, the doctor gave me a prescription for Clomid, which is a fertility drug. He told me to take the first one on the first day of my next period.
But my period never came that next month. I was FINALLY pregnant. Unfortunately, the stress of trying for that long put a major strain on mine and my husband’s relationship.
This pregnancy didn’t go as well as the first and things were definitely more strained with my husband and I. At the time we were both working – opposite schedules so that we could keep our toddler out of day care, so we hardly saw each other. On top of that, about two months before I had the baby, I was put on bed rest because my blood pressure was through the roof, forcing my husband to take on a second job. He and I discussed it at length and decided that once I had the baby, I would stay home with both kids. The job I was working called for odd hours and with a newborn and toddler, we didn’t think we would be able to make it work.
Because of the high blood pressure, the OB/GYN decided to induce me and we scheduled that for Thursday August 16, 2007. I reported to the hospital at 11 like I was told to and induced within a half hour of my arrival. But every time I would have a contraction, the baby would stop breathing, so I ended up having an emergency c-section. When the doctor came in and told me that he was prepping me for surgery, I started to cry. I had never been so scared in my entire life, but everything went off without a hitch and my second perfect baby boy was finally here.
I was in the hospital for three days when I asked to go home. I know that the insurance would have covered a fourth night, but I just wanted to get home. If you’ve spent a night in the hospital, you know that there is no rest for the weary there, so I figured I was better off at home.
So there we were, the four of us, trying to figure out our routine. It was actually easier than I thought it would be to be honest. We were on a relatively tight schedule with our now three year old anyways, so the new baby basically just went along for the ride. Then it happened. Six nights after I got home, I went into the bathroom to pee and saw blood all over the top of my pants. I didn’t feel anything, but I knew it wasn’t vaginal bleeding – it was from the area of my incision. My husband called 911 and sent me off to the hospital until he could get someone to our house to stay with the kids.
Apparently my incision had re-opened. The ER doctor stitched me up and sent me on my way, but because it was a Saturday, I was told to call my doctor on Monday and to just keep a maxi pad over the wound to soak up any drainage.
As it turns out, my incision ended up being open for 13 weeks. Yes, 13 weeks. I had a visiting nurse come to my house every day to clean out the wound and make sure it wasn’t getting infected. Every day. For 13 weeks. I also had to trek out with the kids in tow to see the doctor every week so that he could monitor the progress. The wound had closed a little on its own, but I ended up needing a second surgical procedure to get the incision to finally heal. The doctor ended up having to cut away the skin that wasn’t healing and then re-stitch me up. I was so happy that it worked.
In the midst of all this (having a toddler, a newborn and daily visits from a visiting nurse), my then-husband had also decided that it wasn’t working between us and moved out. The stress of everything was just too much for him and even though I told everyone that it was a mutual decision for us to split, the truth is, he is the one that wanted to go. I always knew he would leave me someday, I just didn’t think it would be as soon as it was and I definitely didn’t think I would be in that situation when he did.
Was I sad to see him go? Not really. There was no love there anymore and I in my soul of souls, I knew I would be better off without him.
Thankfully my friends and parents pitched in to help out. A LOT. And I made it work. I found an amazing job in which I could work from home, so I was making money and able to stay home with my babies.
In 2010, I got remarried to an amazing man named Christian. He is the best husband and step-father to my children that I ever could have hoped for. I honestly could not be any luckier and if that chapter in my life hadn’t ended, a new one never would have begun. And I really like the new one.
I am also very happy to say that my kids have a great relationship with their father. He is very active and involved in their lives and I couldn’t be happier that he wants to be a part of their lives.
My boys are well adjusted and very, very loved, and after all, that is all a mother could ever ask for, right?
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