My reaction to finding out I was pregnant is something I’m not necessarily proud of. I swore. A lot.

I know, pregnancy is beautiful, and a miracle…

But you see, I had finally convinced myself that pregnancy wasn’t really in the cards for me this year. 

A mix of possible personal fertility issues, coupled with an incredibly stressful lineup of fall and winter events – made for a “un-pregnancy friendly” timing. 

Some of you may remember my writing a blog post about not being ready to have another child.
I found out I was pregnant two days after I wrote that post. 

God sure does have a sense of humor.
Or he just likes to challenge people…because I still don’t see how this is funny. 

After putting up that post, I received an abundance of emails and messages from people telling me that they felt the same way – that they enjoyed having one child. They were also confident that they weren’t ready to think about being pregnant again, and we were in this together. 

I didn’t write back to a single message…because I felt like a liar. I felt dumb. I no longer belonged in the single child club. I was carrying my second kid.

I couldn’t share emails about the joys of having one child to spoil and love and cherish. I was too busy with my head in a toilet seat, or crying that I didn’t know how we would afford two kids.

Fast-forward two trimesters—

Call me a crank, but I’m still not ready to be pregnant again. 

I’m scared out of my freaking mind, and I’ve been scared since I first found out.

During my first appointment with my lady doctor, I was afraid of twins or of an empty yolk sack. I was afraid of being pregnant and not being pregnant, all at the same time. Wait, what?
How is that even possible?

Being pregnant is cool, when you’re ready for it. 
But it also sucks. Especially when you’re not ready for it.

It’s tiring, painful, emotional, and scary.

I’m afraid. Afraid of something going terribly wrong during these 40 weeks. Afraid that my negative energy will seep into some weird pregnancy karma in some way, shape, or form.
I’m worried about how my toddler is going to react to a sibling, breastfeeding, having two car seats in my super small car (who do you put in the car first?), and seriously concerned about childcare costs.
I also feel terribly guilty for having mixed feelings. 
Some friends of mine have been praying to get pregnant, and here I am, complaining to myself about timing. 

I was scared to tell those friends, and especially scared to write and publish this post.

Do other people go through mixed emotions while they are pregnant? Because if they do, they sure don’t talk about it enough.
Maybe that’s why I’ve decided to tell you.
Maybe I’m not alone, and I want to assure others that not every mom cries with tears of joy when that pregnancy test (or in my case, five tests) shows two lines instead of the usual one. 

Maybe some of you swore like a sailor as well.

And I think that’s okay. I think, to some degree, it must be normal. 

How the heck wouldn’t it be normal? We are flooded with hormones, our emotions are out of wack, and we do not feel ourselves. 

Even as I write this post, I’m being kicked in the stomach, acid reflux is churning in my espohagus, and I’m avoiding getting dressed because none of my bras fit any more.

But somewhere inside I am excited and happy. I promise. I’m not 100% Debbie Downer. I’m excited that Rhys is going to be a big brother. I’m excited to re-live “firsts” all over again, and to have another tiny baby in my arms. I’m excited to watch this new baby learn how to roll over and the first smile.

It’s just a major adjustment that I wasn’t really ready for.

And I’m learning to accept that.

Did you have any worries about getting pregnant? 
Or how about while you were pregnant?