I find myself pregnant once again. It’s a situation I’ve faced before—almost three years ago, to be precise. I was engaged back then, but I would discreetly remove my ring whenever there were eligible men around. At 24, I had finally summoned the courage to leave my impulsive and narrow-minded fiancé.
After receiving a promotion, I had started a new job downtown and was actively searching for apartments. I was ready to break free from a decision that I had clearly outgrown. One afternoon, I walked to a Jewish deli and ordered a Reuben sandwich, even though I’ve never liked them. I think it was my way of saying goodbye, as it was something my fiancé adored. I had purchased a pregnancy test weeks earlier, but I was confident it would be negative. I took it just to eliminate any lingering doubts. I planned to finish my Reuben, toss the test, and bid farewell to a man who, despite his good intentions, was simply not right for me.
As I sat on the toilet scrolling through apartment listings like they were profiles on Tinder, I glanced at the test before wiping. To my shock, I noticed faint pink lines—my future was being rewritten in that moment. After a few seconds of contemplation, I wiped and returned to work. I called Planned Parenthood and scheduled an abortion for the following week. I would go on to do this four more times before finally acknowledging that I couldn’t continue putting my body and mind through this turmoil.
A week later, after a baseball game, I revealed the truth to my fiancé. His reaction was less than reassuring. He was enthusiastic, but it was clear he wasn’t ready for this milestone. My fiancé had always dreamt of a life that he wasn’t prepared to embrace.
Two months later, we tied the knot while I was three months pregnant. The wedding was a joyous occasion—not because I was thrilled about my future, but because I cherish my friends and family. Their presence was a welcome distraction from my thoughts.
Fast forward six “I can’t live like this” arguments later, and our beautiful son was born. He turned two last week, marking 1,003 days filled with my fears of loneliness and inertia preventing me from embracing a life with someone who could truly make me laugh and inspire me. I have channeled my happiness into my son and have come to love my husband more deeply than I ever thought possible. Our shared bond is something only we can understand.
Yet, therein lies the conflict. I find myself searching for birth announcement ideas one moment and exploring natural miscarriage methods the next. Deep down, I know what this signifies—it means I’m being selfish. As a mother, isn’t it instinctual to want to give everything to protect your child, even if that child is just the size of a poppy seed?
I wish it were simpler. Transitioning from being someone’s daughter to a mother in such a short span feels like a valid reason to contemplate these choices. But perhaps I’m just not good enough. Maybe I’m not as selfless as my husband, who seems to be a martyr, willing to endure an unfulfilling relationship for the sake of doing the right thing.
Now, I’m pregnant again—ambivalent, terrified, yet somehow settled. These emotions accompany every decision I make. My son is the highlight of my day, and I can only imagine the joy a little poppy seed would bring. But would it fulfill me or merely prolong my dissatisfaction in marriage?
I wish I could believe that time would provide clarity, that this dilemma would resolve itself. But leaving things to fate only reinforces my current state, risking another cycle of uncertainty. I’m not sure I could withstand another 24,000 hours on this grim carousel. It’s my turn to take control of my fate.
But how do I consciously deny my son the chance to have a sibling? How do I deprive my mother of loving another grandchild as much as she loves me? If I choose to keep this new pregnancy, how do I explain to my children that settling is never acceptable? How do I raise them to strive for their best selves without them knowing I settled for less?
On paper, these thoughts may seem trivial. But are they? Only time will tell as I remain on this merry-go-round.
This article originally published on January 2, 2018.
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Summary:
The narrator reflects on her complicated journey through marriage and motherhood, grappling with the realities of an unexpected pregnancy while navigating her feelings of dissatisfaction in her marriage. She questions her choices and the implications they have on her family, illustrating the internal struggle of balancing personal happiness with familial responsibilities.