“You’re what?!?!” my husband asked incredulously. His steely blue eyes—the ones that made me weak in the knees when we first met—were now as big as saucers as I thrust a stick with two pink lines toward him. I took a test and aced it, I told him. At least that’s what a plus sign means, right? We were pregnant.
As middle-aged parents to three children ranging from middle school to middle elementary school, we hadn’t put having another baby on the docket. Basketball practice and piano lessons? Sure. Monitoring screen time and Googling how to help my sixth-grader with math homework? You better believe it. Like so many other families, all our regular plans went out the window with the craziness that was 2020, and my husband and I found ourselves in the precarious position of navigating a full-time work-at-home and school-at-home dynamic. It hadn’t been on our radar to live through a worldwide pandemic, but hey, we were doing it (and rocking our new routine, I might add).
The storms of 2020 had rocked the boat so much we were convinced there wasn’t much left that could come as a surprise, but that candy cane striped pregnancy test result had us eating our words. Evidently, there was something that could still render us speechless. I’d heard of pandemic puppies, pets purchased as emotional support during a time of otherwise deep isolation. Apparently, we bypassed that step and took it one farther.
My husband and I embraced, both of us crying, then laughing, then bouncing between every emotional extreme like a pinball machine gone wild.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this again!” I shrieked. “I mean, we’re so old!”
Sure, 36 might not be exactly geriatric, but it makes you rethink the whole “age is just a number” idea when the medical establishment gives you the upgraded title “advanced maternal age” at the first prenatal visit. Translation? You’re no longer a spring chicken, honey!
Quickly, my mind went to the issue of logistics. I’d held onto maternity clothes from three past pregnancies for nearly a decade only to donate them all to a local pregnancy resource center a few months prior. I thought I would never need them again! And all the baby gear—oh, the baby gear! After having a passel of children, we had it all—and I’d had a storage room stuffed with gear to prove it! Navigating around the swing, the bassinet, the exer-saucer, the bouncy seat and the millions of other bulky baby items that made their way in there was like navigating a minefield. In fact, I claimed victory anytime I could get seasonal decor bins out without whacking a shin on some piece of baby apparatus. After years of trying to dodge entanglement in a Johnny Jump-Up while reaching for the Christmas wreath, I determined it was better that the items go to a good home where a new baby would use them. I could also stop collecting battle wounds for unintentionally colliding with them. So, off the things went to a cousin who was enjoying the elation of being a first-time parent. I had reclaimed the storage room for precisely six months and it had felt like sweet victory! Only now this victory had a shelf life of approximately three trimesters.
There were highs. There were lows. And then there was the question of how? Obviously, we had three kids, so we knew where they came from. But this was such an unexpected surprise! I thought back to how our third-born had been begging for a baby sibling over the summer. I told him to pray about it, not thinking much of it. Apparently, he did so with all the fervency that a 7-year-old could muster!
Our world was changed in that moment, but our kids, working on homework on the other side of the house, were none the wiser. My husband and I took our time digesting this new information, lips sealed like trained Secret Servicemen. Keeping a secret from a crew you are around 24/7 is easier said than done, but as the days and weeks went by, we found ourselves cracking a grin every time we locked eyes. Keeping a classified operation to just the two of us was kind of fun—not to mention romantic!
A month later, we broke the news to our kids over pizza and gelato at a favorite local restaurant. Three boys. Three very different reactions. All were over-the-moon excited. My oldest, quite reserved, kept things closer to the vest, while our animated second-born expressed enough enthusiasm for the both of them. “I thought you were going to tell us we were going to get a puppy,” he later told us, “but this is WAY better!” Our youngest instantly began happy crying, sliding closer to me so he could talk to the baby. “That way it’ll know my voice,” he declared.
I don’t know what’s more shocking: having a “surprise” baby or having a baby during such a surprisingly odd year. In either event, the notion of having something sweet around the bend has our whole family celebrating. Perhaps the best things in life aren’t planned after all.
Reasons Why Having a Surprise Baby During a Surprising Year Is a Surprising Gift
- You get to be the deliverer of good news. When it comes to headlines, no news is good news. But baby news is always good news, and friends and family are twice as eager to celebrate in a year of otherwise depressing newsreels.
- You get to bond with other pregnant moms in your social circle. Pregnancy brings women closer together. Having a pandemic pregnancy secures that bond even tighter.
- You have something special to anticipate and look forward to. Vacations and graduations may have been suspended in 2020, but there’s nothing stopping a baby on the way. The inexplicable joy of entering a new chapter of life awaits you.
- Babies build community. Baby showers and meal trains are great ways to support families with new additions, and it helps friends and family find ways to connect during an otherwise lonely year. Not able to be there in person? Show that you care by hosting an online shower or coordinate payment for groceries to be delivered to your mama friend.
Lauren Greenlee is a boy mom of three (soon to be four) that can add pandemic pregnancy to her resume. She writes from her Olathe home.