Jacob and I married three days before my 27th birthday and we both wanted a big family. By normal standards, we were at a perfect age to either start a family or wait a couple years, but we both come from a long line of young baby makers. So on our wedding day, my loving mother gave us the sweet gift of her opinion, “Usually I would tell you to enjoy marriage before having kids, but you guys are getting old!” Thanks Mom.
Ultimately we decided to start trying right away. And we tried… and tried… and tried. Each month we saw the same dreaded thing. Negative.
To make matters worse, I’m a control freak and here I am in a scenario where I have absolutely no control, and I’m freakin out! My unbelievably sweet husband continued to comfort me, month after month. He kept saying, “Relax” and “It will happen when it’s the right time.” So annoying. Amiright?
FINALLY! After countless self hosted pity parties, we found out we were pregnant on January 16, 2014!
Fast forward nine months and our little girl was born! She was adorable, I sucked at breastfeeding, she didn’t sleep… but that’s another story.
I went to my doctor for my postpartum checkup and she said these very important words that I shook off like I was Taylor Swift, “You are very fertile after giving birth, so be careful.”
That brings us to…
Valentine’s Day weekend, after our three month old was asleep, I had two glasses of wine and we watched a very romantic TV special (just kidding, it was the SNL 40th Anniversary Show). Then, Jacob and I took to the bedroom… twice. The second time, we practiced zero self control (insert shoulder shrug emoji). But honestly, A) isn’t it really hard to get pregnant? Remember how hard it was the first time we tried? And for reals… B) how many little guys does he have left swimming around in there? Here are the answers to these questions A) no and B) at least one.
The day my period was due I took a test just because. I didn’t think much of it and even let Jacob check out the results. The test was (apparently) negative and I was fine with that because HELLO! We had a three month old!
A week later, it hit me… it’s STILL not here. Time for test #2. This time I needed to see for myself. And there it was. That double pink line.
Me: I’m freakin pregnant.
Jacob: What?! Let me see.
Jacob: Well that’s what it looked like last week, but it was faint so I just figured I had incredible eyesight.
Me: You can’t be serious.
And then there were Irish twins. They are 3 and 2 now and self proclaimed best friends. I hope this love continues so that I may also reap the benefits of a joint birthday party for years to come.
Here’s the moral, Friends. If you’re not planning on being pregnant 18 out of 21 consecutive months, heed my doctor’s warning and consider birth control. It’s known to be more effective than throwing caution to the wind. And be careful out there, or you too will be forced to learn how to wear two baby carriers at once.