Health Problems, Money Problems, Reluctant Husband, but I have the Fever!

It’s time. Sometime in the next year I should get pregnant. It feels right. I’ve had baby fever for over a year now and had planned on getting pregnant again when my youngest was 5 (she’s now 6.5), but it just feels like it’s time.

In 2001, I got married exactly 2 months after I turned 18. Yes, we were young and stupid, but that first year was bliss. Little did we know, I was living undiagnosed with hypothyroid syndrome and bipolar disorder and our double rainbows came crashing down around us in the next several years.

After a miscarriage in 2002, Eliana (EL-ee-ON-uh) was born in 2003. She scored a 9/10 on her APGAR tests! She was just what I prayed for and I was SO happy again! Then I became depressed. Being raised in a family that didn’t recognize illnesses like that, I thought I was just lazy and tired. So did my husband. We had crazy cycles of up and downs and when Eliana was just 4 months old, I got pregnant again!

My doctor discovered the thyroid problems this time and the depression. Lydia was born 5 weeks premature 2 days after Eliana’s first birthday. She was a healthy 6 lbs, 9 ozs, but had some breathing problems, so she didn’t come home until she was 2.5 weeks old. By now, being a mom was an everyday struggle. I was addicted to my hobbies and put my family second. It was the only way I could cope with the emotional roller coaster I was living on: to submerge myself in art and science. After all, it never changed, never judged me, and was always there when I wanted and needed it.

When Lydia was 11 months old… I got pregnant again. (Man, what’s causing this!?) After Chloe was born in 2005, I fought the most severe drop of depression I had ever experienced and it nearly ripped my little, precious, delicate family apart.

Meanwhile, Chris (my husband), was dealing with his own problems. Panic disorder was keeping him from being able to work and to provide for us like he so desperately wanted to. Prozac lulled him to sleep for 2 years of his life while my hobby turned into a full time job and I became our family’s sole provider. It wasn’t until early 2007 that I was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

Since that time, we have learned to cope with our illnesses and God has blessed us beyond our expectations. We live a humble, but comfortable life in Chris’ hometown. The girls go to a small elementary school and are honor role students. They are happy, healthy, and angelic, even in their naughtiness. I couldn’t ask for a better life. Or could I?

I want a son. I need a son. I watched my mother have wonderful relationships with her sons while we struggled with our own. Moms and boys are special, just like fathers and their daughters have a special bond. I want to see my husband pat his boy on the back with pride. I want to pass the name on that I proudly donned 11 years ago. I want the girls to dote on their baby brother and practice being mothers. I want him.

I can see him, smell him, feel him. It’s as though the umbilical cord already exists.

Chris is worried. He’s worried that we can’t afford a pregnancy or another child. He’s worried he can’t be a good father because he’s not living up to his own high standards. He’s worried neither one of us can handle it with the emotional and mental illnesses we have, let alone our weight and other health issues.

I’m worried. I feel like if I wait much longer, I’ll change my mind and then by the time I regret it, my age will be against me. What if getting pregnant isn’t as easy at it used to be? What if it takes a long time? What if the medications my condition requires poses too great a risk for birth defects?

What if the timing is never perfect and we wait too late?

It’s time. I feel him.