I discovered I was pregnant while my partner and I were navigating the parking lot of a mall with our two-year-old and four-year-old in tow. A sudden realization struck me: I was late. Panic washed over me as I calculated the timeline, and I felt a mix of emotions—joy, dread, terror, and excitement—culminating in the overwhelming thought, “Oh no, I’m pregnant.” I managed to keep it under wraps for two days before finally confessing to my husband. His response was a stunned, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I broke down in tears. With two kids already and no health insurance, the timing couldn’t have been worse.
This was the classic “oops baby” scenario—one that stemmed from our attempts at Natural Family Planning, which, despite our best efforts, didn’t go as planned. Women’s bodies can be unpredictable, and sometimes all the precautions we take don’t prevent the unexpected. We were not in a position to welcome another child, but here we were.
The Assumptions About Our Oops Baby
People generally don’t think of accidental pregnancies, especially when the parents are an underemployed Ph.D. candidate and a writer without health insurance. Most assumed we had intentionally chosen to expand our family for the third time in four years, attributing it to our Catholic upbringing. At that moment, I felt furious with Catholicism; I didn’t want this third child—I wanted to focus on the children I already had. With my struggles of gestational diabetes and hyperemesis, I was barely managing as it was.
Both our families subtly expressed their surprise. While no one explicitly said, “Again?” the judgment was palpable. This made me even more defensive about our impending arrival. Ironically, I began to embrace the idea of this new addition. My older kids were ecstatic about having another sibling. When I reached about sixteen weeks along and we began discussing names, my four-year-old declared that his name would be “Oliver” and that he would be born on Halloween. Sure enough, we named him Oliver, and he made his debut on Halloween night.
Life with Oliver
It might sound cliché, but life truly would be different without Oliver. He’s affectionately nicknamed “Sunny” for his cheerful disposition. He’s incredibly empathetic, once shedding tears over the concept of bullying—not because he experienced it, but simply because it exists. When he apologizes, he expects acknowledgment in return, and if it doesn’t come, he’s quick to point out, “Oliver didn’t accept my apology!” His bond with my middle child has blossomed; they are inseparable companions who keep each other entertained through the night, building Lego structures and playing video games.
In many ways, Oliver has provided a sense of stability during challenging times, including throughout the pandemic. He and his brother have created a sense of normalcy amidst chaos. Watching them grow together has been a joy, and I cherish having someone to snuggle with, even as he turns eight years old.
What began as a stressful surprise has transformed into a beautiful addition to our family. Each child brings their own unique spark, and I wouldn’t trade our “oops baby” for anything. He has a special place in our hearts, and despite the initial panic, I’d gladly embrace it all over again.
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Summary
This article recounts a woman’s unexpected journey into motherhood with her third child, humorously referred to as her “oops baby.” Initially overwhelmed by the surprise pregnancy, she navigates societal expectations and personal fears to eventually embrace the joy and love that come with her new addition. The narrative emphasizes the unique bond between siblings and how unexpected life changes can lead to wonderful, unforeseen blessings.