A confession, of sorts

For the past several months I've been obliquely referring to ongoing issues that I haven't been able to blog about--or, more accurately, that I haven't felt comfortable blogging about.  One issue was the process of converting my current appointment at CU to a tenure-track line.  For several months that conversion process was being discussed, but nothing firm was in place.  I was, thus, not comfortable discussing it until I knew that the process was going forward.  The other issue is a bit more personal and is loosely connected to my hesitancy to blog about the first issue.

I am currently 18 weeks pregnant.  I have not blogged about this previously, despite being a self-proclaimed academic mother, for several reasons.  First, and quite honestly, this was not a planned pregnancy.  I have previously blogged about the decision not to have a third child; despite my own desire for a third child, Archer and I decided a third child was not in the best interests of our family for a variety of reasons.  It seems, for me, that this decision was much more definite than I realized.  When I discovered I was pregnant last fall, it was unexpected.  To use the word shocked is accurate, although, in many ways, that word is not strong enough.  Without going into details, I will say that Archer had been waiting to get a referral to a urologist for several months (my one complaint about the Canadian healthcare system: if one is not deathly ill, it can takes months to see a specialist).  I also will say that I am well into my 30s, and I do know what causes pregnancy. Nonetheless, I was shocked.  I was terrified.  I was overwhelmed.  Archer was cautiously excited.  He was never completely comfortable with our decision to stop at two, so he was immediately happy, although well aware of the complications that come with another child.  I was not happy.  In fact, I spent the first two weeks of the pregnancy crying.  Sobbing is more accurate.  I contemplated ending the pregnancy, a decision that Archer hesitantly supported.  I had a long list of reasons as to why this was the most logical choice, and he admitted that he couldn't argue against my logic.  Despite his cautious happiness, he conceded that it made little sense to have a third child.  I even called my doctor to make the appointment, but ultimately, I couldn't do it.

Even almost three months later, I'm not sure I can explain why I didn't make that call.  I talked to two good friends, both of whom were incredibly supportive.  One friend, who had ended an unplanned pregnancy (under very, very different circumstances than mine), cautioned me that, even if I was sure in my decision, I would always wonder.  As I looked at Wild Man and Bear, I honestly wasn't sure I could deal with wondering when I already knew them.

Where am I now?  After many months of ambivalence, I'm slowly getting excited.  We've told very few people though.  Primarily because we opted to have genetic testing, in part because of my age and in part because I was not in a place to deal with any more surprises.  All of those tests have come back (these tests include an ultrasound and blood tests done at specific points in the first and second trimesters), and everything seems to be progressing normally.  We've both told our department chairs, and as you might expect, it's caused some complications to the interview process for me (which I'm sure I'll blog about later).  We've told Wild Man and Bear, and Wild Man is beyond excited.  Bear doesn't really seem to understand, although he is happy to talk to my growing bump.  Other than that, we've told about 10 or so close friends and my sister.  We are traveling to Home State next week for CU's spring break, and as we've never been able to tell our parents such news in person, we decided to tell them then.  I'll openly admit I've delayed telling them until the testing was done, as well as so I could get used to the idea. 

I'm still worried about how this will work.  Archer and I both have demanding jobs, and there are some days when I feel like we're barely keeping our heads above water with two careers and two children.  I'm worried that I won't be seen as a serious academic, especially by members of Research Department.  I'm worried about time and money and any number of things.  But when Wild Man launches into an argument as to why we should name the baby after his favorite Star Wars character, it is hard not to get excited.

*As an aside, to those of you who know me in real life, I'm sorry for coming out this way.  I am at a point where I feel the need to write about this as a way to process it all.  As I wrote above, our parents and extended families don't know yet, so please don't post about this on Facebook as I would hate for them to find out that way.

Meeting with the dean

So I have a meeting with the dean later today to ask him some questions about the status of my current position.  I hate these kinds of meetings.  The dean is a perfectly nice guy; in fact, we shop at the same grocery store, so I've run into him a few times over the summer.  He always goes out of his way to say hello, and he even remembers the boys' names.  But still, this is not my favorite thing.  I also anticipate that all of his answers will be prefaced by, "Well, I can't tell you what to do. . . " or "Well, nothing is set in stone yet . . ."  This should be fun.

Overwhelmed

That is how I'm feeling.  Archer and I are packing up all the odds and ends that are still around the house, and we're anxiously awaiting a phone call from our lawyer telling us that all the money has changed hands and that we can pick up the keys to our new home.  My stomach is in knots.  I know it is just a matter of waiting for all the people to do their jobs at this point, but I'm very, very anxious. 

On top of that, I'm feeling a lot of anxiety about the new house.  I think it will be perfect for us, but it isn't perfect right now.  As I tried to explain to Archer, our townhouse is us.  We've spent three years painting, organizing, and decorating.  We've painted every room in the house except for the laundry room, and we've updated the fixtures, redone the kitchen and one of the bathrooms, and made it ours.  The new house is bigger, with a lovely yard and deck.  But it doesn't feel like home, at least not yet.  I know that it will, but it is very disconcerting for me to feel as though we're starting over again. 

I'm also really worried about the weekend.  We're hoping to get some things moved in today and to move everything else in tomorrow.  The plan is to sleep at the new house tomorrow night, to spend Saturday unpacking the essentials, and to clean up the townhouse on Sunday and Monday morning.  I've hired our go to babysitter for Sunday.  She'll be with the boys for much of Sunday, giving Archer and I time to clean.  I really want the weekend to be as calm as possible, as both boys are a bit stressed out already. 

I will now stop voicing my anxieties and finish packing.