A Fijian Surprise – Flashback

February 18, 2016

I went to Fiji on 19 September 2013. Two weeks of sun, sand, restaurants, kids, beaches, island life and quality time with the kids and hubby. We had the time of our lives. It was the most relaxed we had been in months.

We got back on 3 October. Life soon settled back into its usual routine… husband at work or out with clients 24/7, me run off my feet with three kids under six, as well as my teenager who announced that after two years living with his Dad that he was returning home. Life was good. Busy, but good.

October 23 was the night before my husband’s birthday. I realised my period was late. Only a few days, but it was late. I had a test left over from when I was trying to conceive number four – which had taken us 18 months to achieve. I did the test not thinking for one minute it would be positive. I knew my cycle… I ovulated mid-month. Every month.

I’ll never forget the faint line that appeared. I looked at it and thought ‘no…. that can’t be right, people don’t fall pregnant at the start of their cycle’. But it was positive. A line is a line. My husband was already asleep, so I went to bed as well.

The next morning was his birthday, I handed him all the gifts that the kids and I had chosen, and then the positive pregnancy test. The smile spread across his face, he was happy. Of course he was! He was never home, what’s another child? Five was never on the agenda. I was 38 in a month, for God’s sake! Old. For me anyway. I was still breast feeding number four… all the time!

The next day I went to Chatswood Chase and went into the chemist. The exchange went something like this :

Me: ‘Excuse me, I want an accurate pregnancy test. The one I took is wrong.’
Chemist Man: ‘Maybe wait a few days and test again, you might be pregnant and it’s not showing up yet.’
Me: ‘Ummm no… it’s showing positive and that’s obviously not right.’
Chemist Man: ‘How many kids do you have? A positive generally isn’t wrong.’
Me: ‘Four. This will be number five.’
Chemist Man looked at me like I was an idiot. Not surprising, really.

I slowly started telling friends and family, booked into my obstetrician, and got used to the idea that six was about to become seven. We needed a new car, another cot and a double pram.

I’m now nine weeks pregnant with number five baby, and although it wasn’t planned I’m getting my head around it all again.

Yay to more sleepless nights, cracked nipples and gummy smiles!


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