I did the usual "peeing on a stick" routine, and then got in the bubble bath to relax. I tried not to let the anxiety of taking a test get to me, because I really didn't believe I was pregnant. However, my curiosity got the best of me and I checked the test.
I couldn't believe what I saw. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I didn't know what I felt. I was shocked and scared out of my mind. Like always, my phone was beside me, sitting on the closed toilet lid of the bathroom. I quickly grabbed it and text my husband to come in the bathroom.
The two minutes it took him to enter the bathroom felt like a century. I couldn't relax in the bubble bath anymore. I grabbed a towel and sat on the edge of the tub. He walked in and asked me what was wrong. I showed him the test. Of course, he was smiling from ear to ear and happier than I have ever seen him. He asked me how I felt and I just started crying. It wasn't that I didn't want the baby, it was that I didn't think I was ready to be a good mom. He reassured me that I would be, but I didn't believe it. I didn't feel pregnant, and I wasn't ready to be pregnant.
Three weeks and six more pregnancy tests later (yes, I had a time convincing myself I was really pregnant...by the way, I was.), I had an ultrasound. I was laying on that chair/bed thing you lay on when you get sonograms, and the lady walked in the room, put the warm jelly on my stomach and began her job.
The second that little peanut-sized baby showed up on the screen, I knew my world was about to turn upside down. I didn't cry a single tear...all I could do was smile. That's the very second I knew I was ready to be a mom; I knew I was ready to love something TRULY without condition. It felt real from that moment on.
I had heard the heartbeat.
Let me tell you, that is the most beautiful sound anyone in the world will ever hear; their baby's heartbeat.
Three weeks after that ultrasound, my husband left for Iraq. January 16, 2009, to be exact. I was torn up more than I ever thought I could be. It was the toughest thing I had ever done up to that point. Yet, the one thing I had to keep me comfort when he was gone was knowing our baby was growing inside of me. I had to take care of that baby; focus on that baby; and time would pass faster.
I heard many more heartbeats. I saw the little peanut turn into a cantaloupe. I felt the baby kick me at fourteen weeks when I was looking up when most people feel their baby kick. How ironic, huh? At eighteen weeks, I went to find out what I was having. They told me it was a boy; but they weren't sure because the ultrasound technician was off that day. They rescheduled for me to go back, and I did.
They checked again; and told me what I was having again.
My husband called nearly four seconds after I left the ultrasound.
"Well, is it a Dublin or an Ireland?" referring to the boy and girl names we had picked out.
I said, "It's an Ireland."
"A girl?" He said. "We're having a girl?"
And I smiled and said yes. Then the called dropped out; and he called back and told me how he was telling everyone when the call dropped that he was having a little girl. I honestly think he was more excited about having a girl than he was a boy.
I was thrilled to be having a girl; and being able to call her "Ireland" instead of "It" was amazing. I loved that. She was a little person then.
Eighteen weeks quickly turned into thirty seven weeks; and my husband came home for R&R for two weeks. He finally got to feel her kick. He finally saw how ginormous I had gotten.
Two weeks later, I went in for my induction to have her. The contractions hurt, but I honestly don't remember them too well. The epidural saved my life. After seven hours of labor, including one hour of pushing - I heard my baby girl cry for the first time.
They laid her on my chest, all gooey and messy...but that didn't matter. Bawling my eyes out, I kissed her anyway. I told her "happy birthday" and kissed her. I told her I loved her, and then they took her away to be cleaned up. I made my husband go with them. I made sure he was the first one to actually hold her other than me. He had missed out on enough already.
After I was situated after labor, he handed our little girl to me. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid my eyes on. Nothing about her was imperfect or flawed. She was perfect.
Since then, I haven't cared about losing countless hours of sleep, or not having any personal space, not getting any alone time, not having enough money for things I want, not being able to eat anything without sharing it with someone else, fixing bottles late at night, rocking a baby with colic to sleep (now, letting a sick or teething toddler sleep in the bed with us), dirty diapers, messy house with toys everywhere, or losing friends because you aren't able to hang out anymore. I haven't missed any of that.
Yet, it still kills me to watch her grow up. I'm getting ready to potty train her; I'm getting ready to put her in a big-girl bed. I wish she would slow down. I sometimes wish she were still a little baby that could be held with one arm. I still wish she needed me as much as she used to. Granted, she still needs me, but I know time is passing so fast now, that it's only going to pass faster, and one day she won't need me at all. It breaks my heart knowing how fast everything has happened, but at the same time I'm beaming I'm so proud of her. I love to watch her grow and learn and become a little girl. I just wish she would stay a baby a little bit longer.
I don't know if she'll ever understand exactly how much she means to me. She got me through a deployment. She kept me sane. She's been attached at my hip since day one. I've only been away from her for 3 nights out of 16 months; and I never enjoy myself away from her. She makes me want to be a better person every day; she makes me a better person every day; and she teaches me something new about myself and life every day.
When she was five months old, I found out I was pregnant again, this time with another little girl; her sister, Kealan. I went into labor naturally with her; I had her without drugs - it's been a completely different experience having another baby. She's nothing like Ireland was; but still I love her just the same. It's true, you don't love one child more than the other. You love them both the same - unconditionally and so much that it hurts. Kealan has gotten me through a lot too; just as much as Ireland has. I don't know if I'll be able to thank either one of them enough for making my life so much fuller and enjoyable. Kealan is already nearly two months old; and I still remember walking laps around the neighborhood with my sister; and doing squats trying to get her to decide to come out. Now, I kind of wish I had just enjoyed it.
Yet, you can't go back. You can only go forward. I have to watch them grow up, and I have to let them go one day; but I will always love them with everything I have; and I hope that they really do understand how much I care about them; how much I would do for them without even thinking. All of the things I was once scared of because it could hurt me; I'm not afraid of anymore - not for myself but for them. I worry about them constantly. I just want the best for them; the absolute best. Being a mom makes you appreciate your own parents. It's hard to believe. However, on countless occasions when I'm with one or both of my girls; I can't help but think: "This is exactly how my parents feel about me." And it makes me appreciate everything they've ever done even more. It makes me respect them more; because I know I would want my girls to realize how much I love them one day too.
Being a mom is the most heartbreakingly amazing thing anyone will ever experience. Being a father is just as amazing; but I don't know exactly how a father feels. I just know that I grew two little humans inside of me; they're the only people in the world that know what my heartbeat sounds like from the inside. They're my world, and I'm so thankful that I have them in my life. I may only be 22, and I could probably be graduating college this year, but that's not what I was meant for and I don't think I'd be happy if I were meant for that. I was meant to do this; be a mom; be the best mom I could ever be.
I couldn't imagine it any other way.
"Beautiful baby from the outside in. Chase your dreams but always know the road, that'll lead you home again. Go on, take on this whole world, but to me you know you'll always be, my little girl."
This is my possibly the most amazing thing i've read in a long time :) i'm in tears reading it! Ireland and Kealan couldn't be blessed with a more amazing mommy. You're an amazing mother to them both, you sacrifice so much and put them first every single second of the day. I hope when they get older they realize how blessed they are and if not then Aunt Chels will definitely remind them!
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