Bloody Confusion

My periods this year have settled into an almost normal 28 day cycle. In the past they were usually 31-32 days. In August it started at 26 days. This I believe because I was at an intense but beautiful labor with a doula client. Breathing through every contraction with her for hours made me crampy and it was no surprise to find blood when I came home.
My period (at 28 days) should have started on the 5th. It didn't. I waited for Tammy to go into labor knowing that birth hormones always push me into bleeding. The 6th passed, then the 7th, the 8th. Every day I re-counted the days to make sure I was right. I weighed myself, desperateley searching for those extra 3 pounds I always put on with a period. Instead, I had lost 4. (Surely to a bit of stress and lots of running around!) Ironically, I was finally at my real pre-pregnancy weight before Eamon. Those 4 pounds stuck with me like glue for the last 18 months.
I was worried. I really thought about buying a pregnancy test as days 32, 33 went past. I thought about Greg's reaction (or at least, the reaction I imagined, and it wasn't nice). I imagined Greg getting all worse-case-scenario and knew I couldn't handle that. Couldn't handle the "we'll have to sell our house" and "we'll never get ahead" rants. Ugh. I'll even admit that my vain side was quite pleased to see those last 4 pounds gone, but only to be pregnant again? When I was planning on buying myself a pair of those skinny Audrey Hepburn black pants they have at the mall? It takes me a full 2 years to get rid of the boobs and curves of pregnancy and nursing. How vain!
I put off buying a pregnancy test because I wasn't ready to see any result. I was so excited to have finally had a couple of consults with perspective clients. I was excited to have met some sweet women Saturday at the community expo who were trying to get pregnant and asked me lots of questions. I even went so far as to figure out my due date, should I be pregnant: May 15th.
I knew I would take clients due until mid-April. And then perhaps take people due after mid-June. I would take my baby to births with me. I wanted to tell someone this possible news. I didn't. It was very unlike me too. I usually need to tell someone, either Tammy or Kate or my sister.
After my consult yesterday, I went to the credit union to clean. I used the restroom and found blood. A swift melancholy swooped down on me and took over. I cried.

What is this?
What is this push and pull at wanting to establish myself as a midwife, as a provider for our family, and yet yearn so for new life growing in me? It's not fair.
No sir, it's Just Not Fair.

When I came home I told Greg about this little "scare" of possibly being pregnant. Of how I imagined him being angry, scared, worse-case-scenario. He said, "No, I don't think so. It would've been fine. Although, I don't know how it could've happened. We didn't have any accidents."
I said, "Every time your penis is in me and I'm ovulating is a potential for an accident. Not just when you fail to pull out." Duh! (as I roll my eyse like a 13 year old girl)

Later in th kitchen he came up behind me and pulled me close, hands rubbing my belly. He said, "Well, we can keep trying you know."
Startled, I gulped out, "What?!"
"And the big boobs that come with it are always a nice perk!" he laughed.

I spun away with a smile and utter confusion. Yearning more for a new little life in me. Immediately making peace with curvier hips and no Audrey Hepburn Skinny Black Pants.
Completely in love with my husband. And completely confused as to what my life focus should be right now.

The crazy thing about all of this. If I had been pregnant, our kids would have almost the exact same age gaps as my sister, brother and me. My sister is nearly 8 years older than me (Sarah would've been too), my brother 3 years older than me (Eamon would've been too) and then a little #3. Surely a girl as my mom had had. Girl Boy Girl. Well actually, she had a stillborn at 7 months with her real #3, and that was a boy before I came along.

At any rate, I'm feeling completely homey, slightely melancholy but in a good way that I am honoring. I want to have a good long talk with Greg to say: What do we want here?! Should we try or should we push on?
I was planning on getting an IUd at the end of the month too. Sheesh, now all of that is so out of my head. Before Greg would say we'd try for a baby in 5 years. But I don't want to be 38 and pregnant. I grow big babies and my lower back and pelvis is a mess when pregnant. I feel like either in the next year or so or never.
We shall see. We never have time to talk like this.
And I have to work tonight.