This came on the heels of a silly ranting Facebook post that my husband put up (and quickly deleted) about not having any time nor energy these days. Someone commented #lifechoices.
It was a dumb thing to even acknowledge, nonetheless have an emotional response to, but we did and I was angry.
The truth was, I wanted three kids. I actually wanted four, but my husband and I had settled on three and I felt good about that, like I could handle it with ease.
I figured I had three to four years to make this happen since my husband is 10 years older than me and we wanted to be young, cool parents. (Clearly, I had it all figured out).
We were really on a roll after my daughter, Summer, was born in October 2013. She was easy breezy.
Watch: Five things you need to know about pregnancy – that no one ever tells you. (Post continues after video.)
We continued bragging about how easy she was, what a good eater she was, what a good sleeper she was, how we just thought parenting was the easiest and most fulfilling job in the world.
We were “those parents.” I annoy myself just thinking about it now.
She was so easy that only nine months after her birth, we started trying again. Little did I know, since I had just stopped breast feeding, I would be pregnant in about 15 seconds.
I shot up the morning after my 31st birthday and felt a strong pain in my stomach muscles. A pain I had only ever experienced when pregnant.
I hopped out of bed, took a test and at 5:15 in the morning tapped my husbands shoulder, he rolled over and saw the “+.” We both squealed in excitement.