In the beginning of November, I found out I was pregnant. To say it was a surprise would be an understatement. I had no intentions of ever having another child. My family was complete. My oldest had just turned 17, gotten his driver's license, and a job. My girls are self sufficient as well. I love being able to sleep in on my days off. I laughed a few years ago when my sister had her 4th child at 38. Now here I am, about to turn 41, and having another baby.
The decision to have this child once I found out I was pregnant was easy. I don't believe in abortion, though I do believe that each woman has the right to make that decision for herself. (does that make sense?) Unfortunately, this baby's father wanted nothing more than for me to have an abortion. When I refused, he made it his mission to change my mind, by whatever means possible. Saying he has made the past two months unbearably difficult would also be an understatement. Now that I am 12 weeks, he knows he has lost this battle.
I know doing this on my own is going to be hard. Extremely hard. I am already worrying about what I am going to do with her once I go back to work. Oh, I should probably clarify that I do not know the sex (YET!) but I call her a girl. My kids are excited about their new half-sibling, and are already offering to help as much as they can, though Brandi refuses to change dirty diapers. I really can't blame her for that. I am not looking forward to dirty diapers either.
I am looking forward to meeting this new little creation of mine. I am looking forward to all the firsts. Looking in her eyes for the first time. The first time she smiles. The first time rolls over, sits up on her own, crawls, those first unsteady steps. The first time she calls me Mama. I wonder who she will grow up to be. I know God blessed me with this child for a reason. I may have made a mistake in making her, but God didn't make a mistake when he let her be created.