Swimmingly

We were on quite the roller coaster this weekend. I've been experiencing a laundry list of pregnancy symptoms for a while, and Friday and Saturday they were overwhelming, so we stopped at the drugstore on the way home from dinner and got a 2-pack digital test. I plugged the test trip into the digital reader and, you know, let it fly, but I had been holding it for a while and the force was so strong that I couldn't keep some whiz from getting into the reader, resulting in an error result. I disgustedly ejected the test strip - and saw two lines on it.

I've been conflicted about having another child - and going through another pregnancy - since about the time my living son began to sleep through the night. Faced with a seemingly positive test, I wasn't thrilled, because (1) I have an IUD and (2) my husband has been strongly opposed to another pregnancy. I sat on the throne and cried a little, and my husband came and hugged my head (because I was still sitting down), and we started thinking. I started doing the online search for what would happen with an IUD pregnancy - I had assumed it meant automatic abortion, whether spontaneous or induced, but I found much anecdotal evidence that it was possible to deliver a healthy child. The next morning, my husband found the same material, and we both kept thinking. In the mean time, I peed on the other test strip and got two lines again.

Around noon, we started talking - we agreed that if the pregnancy was viable, we wouldn't terminate. We had both been thinking about how to stay in our house a little longer with two kids, and my husband had been thinking about what name would go with our living son's name. And then, just to be sure, since the result lines on those two pee strips had been on the light side, we stopped at the drugstore and picked up another 2-pack of tests, but the non-digital kind, and in another brand. We got home, I sat down, did the routine - and got a negative result.

So while we had been talking about what to name another child, it seemed I was already in the process of miscarrying. I took the other test - negative again. So - no extra-risk IUD pregnancy. But no pregnancy, either. Is there a word for when you're thrilled and sorrowful at the same time?

I went back online to assess the light-positive-turned-negative results and stumbled on the revelation that two lines on a digital test strip is not a positive but rather an ovulation indicator; apparently, the manufacturer uses the same strip - and patent - for both kinds of tests. The ratio of thrill to sorrow got a little better.

Of course, there was still the issue of the pregnancy symptoms, but I think we've narrowed them down to being the result of two factors: (1) the presence of prolactin [due to still breastfeeding] and (2) my clarified desire to shake and bake another child. There it is: there are problems, but I want to do it.

Factor 1 won't be an issue much longer. While I'd be fine with breastfeeding my son until he weans himself, I'm not willing to do it at the expense of my sanity, so we're tapering off from three feedings to two, and today we're trying one. My son will be 1 in less than 3 weeks; it will be okay. I'll miss the bond, but I won't miss the biting every time another tooth is coming in or the constant picking and scratching he does for comfort or the way in which he wiggles as though his diaper is on fire while he's going at it.

Factor 2 is tougher. My husband has long wanted to adopt; in fact, he would have been fine if we had never gone down this road at all and just adopted from the start. I had long wanted to adopt, but I don't want to any more, at least not an older child, which we had planned. I would be willing to consider a baby, but I'm leery of not getting to start from scratch with a child, of inheriting problems with which I'm not equipped to deal. As I state these things, I realize they don't represent the most evolved point of view. In theory, I think adoption is great, and that older children are the ones who really need the help. But right here in my, uh, bathroom (from whence I'm posting), it's not what I want.

There's also the high risk nature of another pregnancy. My husband views pregnancy as hazardous to my health, and with the introduction of the gd gd last time, I have to concede there is some merit to his concerns. As to mental health, the question is: Would it be any different - any better - a fourth time around? Could I go at it with lowered expectations and less drama? I like to think so. I felt much more zen about the second pregnancy than the first - although that peace was soon disrupted by out of control nausea and the fecal incontinence that accompanied the remedy, followed by bleeding and miscarriage. And after striking out both late and early, the third pregnancy just felt like a minefield from beginning to end. But I have this beautiful, living boy, and he will be more than enough if need be, so I wouldn't have as much at stake. And I would be able to draw on the toughness the last few years have given me.

Yesterday, we sat down and talked about it, as well as considering several educational avenues, given my newly-acquired crush on cell division, and it came down to: (1) we want different things, reproductively, (2) it's vitally important that I determine my educational path and that I not put off finishing it, and (3) we want to pursue all these various plans together. So our agreement is that we will put aside the reproductive conversation until January, when we plan to do some foreign travel - we seem to have more mental space for working things out when we're on the road - and for the next five months we'll concentrate on my education decision and on my husband's new position in his company and on loving the bejeezus out of our son.

It feels good, to have some space in what was a crowded mental field, and to not have the weight of worrying about our conflict. It's not gone, but I don't have to carry it around for a while, and I like it. It gives me time to think about my health, and about losing weight, and about our son's love of the water and tentative attempts at swimming and interest in walking like the big people do. It gives me the chance to more fully enjoy spending time with my husband without the big maybe-baby wedge between us, which hasn't been the case for too long. It gives me clarity and let's me sleep at night without waking up a billion times. I'm going to be all right.