So, I just had another baby. You think I’m crazy, right? I am crazy. But, I am also happy, so at least there’s that.

Now, let’s start from the beginning. I already have two kids. I thought that for sure I was done. My husband and I had the conversation about the vasectomy and he decided that he would get one. Three days after said conversation, I wake up to my 10 month old baby fussing, wanting to nurse. I roll over and nurse him, but something is weird. It feels like my boobs are empty…what the hell happened to my supply? I figure that it’s just my period about to come into fruition and think nothing more of it (except, hopefully I’m actually providing my 10 month old with some nutrition from my boobs). My 4 year old wakes up and comes into bed with us. My husband is still snoring. The kids and I get up, I make coffee, make them breakfast, it’s a normal day. My husband decides to mosey on out of bed two hours later (in fairness, he works late nights, so this is totally normal and part of our routine). This is the time of day that I get to leave reality and do something for myself. I decide to go to this awesome outside yoga class right down the street from our house. It’s a beautiful day outside, I get on my bike with my cute little yoga mat and start pedaling away. But, I feel weird. Something is off. I get to yoga and everything is great, I’m in my happy zen place, and then, I am in some twisting move and I feel the familiar pull in my uterus.

I knew right then that I was pregnant. I chose to stay in denial for a little bit longer, but I knew.

I’ll spare you the details of the rest of the day, but it ends with me going to Target with both kids, buying a two pack of the crappy Target brand pregnancy tests, taking one of the tests in the handicap stall of the Target restroom (because how else am I going to fit myself and two kids into a stall), and getting the goddamn positive result. That unholy little cross.

Fuck. That’s all I’m thinking. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Everything else goes blank. My hands are shaking. Pull it together, Amie. You’re at Target with your two kids. Pull it together.

So, I do, and get myself and the kids out of the bathroom and to the car. I don’t remember doing that. It’s like when you have too much to drink and you remember being at the party and the next thing you know, you are waking up in your own bed.

So, anyway, I get both kids buckled in their car seats and I take out the pregnancy test and stare at it agian. As if I didn’t see it correctly the first time. I take a picture of it and send it via text to my husband. He respnods back with the laughing, smiley face emoticon. He thinks I’m joking. I tell him it’s real. He responds back with “Fuck.” Yep, this is how it all started.

So, at this point you all are thinking birth control, right? Why the fuck didn’t you use birth control? Well, I’ll tell you why. Because I didn’t think I needed to. Famous last words.

But, listen, my other two pregnancies (you know, the ones we planned) were difficult to conceive. It took 8 months of continuous (well maybe not continuous, but A LOT) unprotected sex to conceive my daughter and 6 months of the same to conceive my son, so I was pretty sure that I was in the clear. I mean, we had two kids. I don’t even remember the last time we had sex. Plus, I hadn’t gotten a period yet and I was still nursing on demand, all the fucking time, so what gives? How the hell did I get pregnant?

This was the stage I went through after the denial. Anger. What the fuck? This is all my husbands fault. Why didn’t he get the damn vastectomy sooner? I’ve already pushed two babies out of my vagina…naturally…without drugs…and then let them use my boobs to nourish their little bodies until they were done with them. Haven’t I been through enough? Apparently not.

Then, out of nowhere, my mind decided to be rational and I considered my options. ALL of them. I started freaking the fuck out. I decided to call my college roommate. The one person that I knew would understand what this meant to me and give me an honest opinion. She told me to listen to my gut.

That’s the best fucking advice anyone has given to me in a long time. I had actually forgotten what that meant. When was the last time I listened to myself?

When I became a mother, my whole world became about my children. My first thought, my intuition, is always geared toward my kids. I had forgotten about myself for the last few years and now I really needed to check in. So, I did. I thought about what this decision would do to me. I thought about what it would do to my family. And then I remembered that there was once a time when I let life happen to me. It was such a beautiful, happy time in my life. After college, before kids, when life was really just about me. I let life happen, without trying to control everything. I realized that I could do that again. I could just let life happen. This happened. And I could let it happen, instead of trying to control it.

So, I did. I went to Planned Parenthood, got a “legitimate” pregnancy test, listened to my options again, and decided ultimately to keep the baby.

The pregnancy was pretty easy. The first trimester sucked, they always do, but the rest was fairly straight forward.

My family and I moved three times. I had three different “care providers” and envisioned three very different ways of giving birth.

I ended up having Blaise in a very small hospital in Santa Paula, CA with an OB that I like very much. I had my other two babies in a big hospital in Colorado with midwives, so this birth was very different. But, it was great. I got to have him naturally, and he came just when I needed him to. He came out perfect. Beautiful, tiny, and perfect.

This experience definitely transformed me. Changed my perspective. Made me less tightly wound. I am more present. Less worried. Less stressed. Blaise is such a peaceful baby and has brought a sense of calm into all of our lives. I am grateful for that.

I am grateful to be a mother, to be a woman, to have a choice in what I do with my life and my body. The world is a crazy place right now. The thought of bringing new life into this chaos is scary. But, I am happy that I made the choice that I did. While the world is still spinning, we have to figure out how to live in it, right? We might as well be happy while we do that.