I found out I was pregnant when my second daughter was not even three months old and my oldest daughter was two and a half. My husband at the time wasn’t a great provider by any means and was a closet alcoholic. There was nothing more that I loved than my kids but was struggling to keep my head above water, a fake smile across my face proving I could do it alone without asking him for any help. Often when the baby was too loud, he would lock himself in the bedroom with a bottle, forcing me and my kids to sleep in the living room on a couch while blaring his music. Mind you, the baby was a newborn!
I made an appointment with my doctor to get birth control. I was happy with my girls and knew I couldn’t handle the thought of having another baby with how things were (& how they have been for years) was looking forward to have one less thing worry about. The doctor asked when was my last period and that’s when it hit me. I had never got it postpartum but almost like telling her that, that was normal right? It takes awhile? It shouldn’t take this long. Let’s take a test before weighing because options.
I knew as soon as I took it that it was positive. Later that afternoon, when getting a call saying congratulations test came back positive, I never really wanted to die more. I couldn’t bear the thought of telling my husband – we were struggling so much with finances, young kids and our living situation.
Within five minutes after the call, I had looked up Planned Parenthood, scheduled my appointment, and again, went and paid for everything myself.
