I am NOT pregnant

So, as I have mentioned previously, breastfeeding never really worked out for us. Owen could never latch. Hamilton, who started off as a lazy nurser, eventually refused to; until he had teeth, which brought along its own issues. Fortunately my husband's sisters bought me a PISA as a gift and I have successfully been pumping for the boys since the day we got home from the hospital.

Until about a month ago my supply has been really great. So great in fact, that my menstrual cycle has been in hiding since last fall. Almost a month ago I became very concerned about my supply dropping. I did some research and learned that a common explanation for a drop in supply is a new pregnancy. Initially I dismissed this as an option. I never considered myself to be infertile-from breastfeeding- and we have been relatively careful. But as time passed I grew more and more concerned. At the end of March I was sitting at a staff meeting and I was overwhelmed with a desire to take a HPT. I don't fool around with the crappy cheap tests. I bought the definitive one that says "pregnant" "not pregnant." A test that could not possibly generate a false positive.

I really didn't think that I could be pregnant, but I knew that in the upcoming days that I would wake up at 4 am and want to take a test and not have one. So I took one of the tests out of my 2-pack. I even told a co-worker what I was going to do. I was joking, secure in the knowledge that I would return to her office and we would laugh and start talking about cases.

I returned to her office 10 minutes later gray and white knuckled. With a test that did not say the word "not" anywhere on it.

The four hours between taking that test and my spouse returning home from work were interminably long. We had just started to make plans to work on our house with the proceeds of our tax refund. And I knew that there was no way that I could afford to return to work after this, for awhile at least. Plus, I had been told to wait a year to allow my incision to fully heal. And worst of all I didn't know how pregnant I might be.

I called my OBs office and cruelly the phone rang and rang and rang. So I called my REs office. They scheduled me to have BETAs and told me that I have to quit breastfeeding. So I called the lactation consultants at the hospital where I delivered, who let me know that no reliable evidence supports a need to stop breastfeeding during pregnancy. They did say that I should give up my plans to donate milk through the human milk bank.

When my husband arrived home I made him sit down. And then I said, "I am pregnant." No lead in story, they always seem like torture. And I waited for him to fall over, or start yelling, or have a panic attack. But do you know what he did? Seriously? He looked kind of happy. He also looked panicked and about to fall over, but no yelling, he seemed fairly calm. And we figured out how this might work.

And then I took the second test. And it was negative.

Everyone knows that results earlier in the day are more accurate. But I went out and bought new tests. I took another one Friday at 4AM, negative. Friday at 930 am I went in for BETAs. I took a fourth on Sat at 4AM, negative. When I heard the results of the BETAs on Monday I already knew that I was not/no longer pregnant. And that really is best for us. But a little irresponsible part of me was sad.

I love my babies so much, and I love being a mom, and watching my husband be a dad... and... I would love another one... Oh no...

I have said that everyone I know who has a nine month old goes through a honeymoon phase where there baby is suddenly awesome, cuddly, interactive, not quite walking and destroying property. And during that phase they start to want another one. And then 3 months later when their nine month old is a year old: and walking; and in the dog's water dish; and in the litter box; and flushing jewelry down the toilet; they are pregnant and wondering what they were thinking. And I am much smarter than that. Plus my incision needs more time, as does our bank account, but I know that there is light on the other side of this crazy first year of parenting twins because that Monday morning, even though I knew the results were negative, I was kind of hoping that they were not.

I still haven't resolved my milk supply issue. I rented a hospital grade pump in hopes that would help. It cost $100. If you know my husband IRL, don't tell him this, but I don't think that it is much better than my PISA. I have to call the lactation consultants back anyway and tell them that once again I will be donating milk this August after I have weened the boys. And then, for the first time in almost two years, my body will be my own again. And maybe, for the first time since Labor Day of 2008, I'll have a Beefeater's on the rocks-with an olive, in my Kate Spade crystal tumbler, before the summer is through. Aaaah