From the time my son was about 2 weeks old, I've pretty much told anyone and everyone who would listen that I'm on the "one and done" plan -- because I know what I can handle, and I can't handle more than one kid.
Of course, in the same breath, I also tell people that if I ever were to become pregnant, I'd be happy about it -- because babies are blessings and whatever is meant to be will be. And I guess somewhere in the way, way back of my mind, I wondered if maybe there was a small part of me that subconsciously wanted another child, which is why I wasn't ruling out baby number two if he were to be conceived "by accident."
But then a few months ago, I had a pregnancy scare -- and it changed everything.
My husband and I went out for dinner and drinks with friends on a Saturday night while my parents kept our son at their place. And there's really no socially respectable way of saying this, so I'll just go ahead and put it out there. Both of us got shitty drunk. Like a couple of college kids. And one thing led to another when we got home, and even though I didn't fully remember what took place, the next morning, it was obvious to me that we'd at least attempted to have sex.
Did I mention I stopped taking the pill a long time ago? Yeah, the pill makes me nutty. And depressed. And moody and all over the place. So I quit taking it.
Without going into too much detail, let's just say nights like that particular Saturday are a rare occurrence in my household, so I hadn't bothered to get on any other form of birth control. And then I took out my calendar and did the math and realized we'd had drunk sex on the most fertile day of my cycle -- and I panicked.
I told myself everything happens for a reason, and that if I were pregnant, I'd accept it and be fine with it, and that maybe I really was meant to have two kids instead of just one. Sure, a baby would shake things up and be super difficult to adjust to, considering my son is 7 now -- but I'd manage one way or another.
Two weeks later, I was in Tennessee visiting my best friend from college. And since I tell her everything and she knew I was in the middle of a preggo scare -- she also joined right in to celebrate with me when I got my period the last morning of my trip. I got out of bed, went to the bathroom, then literally ran down the hall into her bedroom jumping up and down and cheering. I'd never been so happy to see Aunt Flow in my entire adult life.
And that's when I knew. I mean I REALLY knew that I am D-O-N-E having kids. There wasn't even a small part of me that felt one shred of disappointment over the realization that there wasn't a tiny human being growing inside of me. I was relieved -- if not elated.
From here on out, when I tell people I'm "one and done," I truly mean it. One-hundred percent. There will be no more babies. At my next annual OB-GYN appointment, I'm talking to my doctor about getting my tubes tied.
And as stressful as it may have been, I'm thankful that I had that pregnancy scare. Because at least now, I'll never question whether or not I made the right choice in not giving my son a sibling. He's an only child, through and through -- and that's what he was meant to be.
Have you ever had a pregnancy scare? Did it make you realize you do or don't want anymore babies?
Image via Daquella manera/Flickr