Feeling guilty. *long post sensitive topic

So my firstborn son was a product of rape when I was living with my husband this was before we got married though so he was still my boyfriend but we had been together for 6 years at that point living in Austin texas, and i was a cocktail waitress at a gentleman’s club and my husband hated that I worked there but I told him it was ok I liked the money and he was just starting his career out and not much money was coming in so I just did what I wanted. Anyway, I am assuming one of my customers I don’t know who put something in a drink because I would have “drinks” with customers but they were pretend and just pineapple juice, and last thing I remember is waking up in someone’s car, don’t know how I got there but it was 1 am and hours had gone by I was partially clothed and I was sore in vaginal and anal area and knew something had happened. But I felt embarrassed this had happened to me I thought it was my fault, I thought my husband would leave me if he figured out what happened and so I just left the club in a taxi and went home never mentioned it to anyone and just quit working there. After that I went into a downward spiral, I began abusing drugs anything I could get my hands on to stop the pain I was feeling. My husband saw this happening and wanted to get me help but I didn’t listen to him and would be gone for days at a time and left him at our apartment alone and he ended up going through horrible depression because of my actions. Anyway, I realized I hadn’t gotten my period for awhile but I didn’t know how long I never tracked my cycles back then and out of curiosity I took a pregnancy test and it was positive. I took more they were all positive. I cried, I cried harder than I did after knowing I was sexually assaulted because I couldn’t believe this, my life was over. My husband would never understand, the baby growing inside me must have so many issues because of the heavy drug use, and I just couldn’t have a child from rape. So the solution to this was to get an abortion. I called planned parenthood and got an appointment. I was ready to do this thinking my reasoning was justified. A couple days later my husband found out about the appointment from a friend of mine, and he confronted me about it. I burst into tears and told him the whole story. And how this was the right decision because I hurt the baby with what I was doing, and how the baby wouldn’t be loved by me anyway. He just held me for the longest time and told me how strong I was for getting through it, and that he wished I would have told him sooner. He also told me, let’s go to a doctor and get checked out make sure I’m ok and the baby is ok and we will figure out what our next step is. So I went to an OB and they did a dating ultrasound, I was around 21 weeks. I saw the baby in the ultrasound, he looked like a baby, it was a boy, he was healthy, no defects, and I couldn’t believe this little baby was doing ok despite all the abuse I was doing to my body to cope with what had happened to me. After the appointment, my husband asked me “so what would you name him” I told him I was not keeping the baby that he would go to adoption. My husband said, “I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do” and so as the months went on, I thought he would go to adoption. I then started feeling kicks and punches, I wasn’t excited for them. My husband wanted to feel them and I couldn’t understand why he wanted to it wasn’t his child. But he would get a smile on his face every time he felt the kicks. Then I hit 37 weeks and my water broke, the baby was coming. I went to the hospital had a bunch of complications and the baby was delivered via c section. When I finally saw the baby, I cried...I cried so much. Because I saw the cutest little thing I had ever seen. He was perfect, so innocent, he was also mine. When I held him I felt so at peace in a way I didn’t imagine I could ever feel. I loved this baby. And my husband loved the baby as well, I was so surprised by this. He put his name as the father on the birth certificate, and we agreed on the name Rowan. And he saved me. Because if I wasn’t pregnant I would have kept on that path of self destruction and who knows where I would have ended up. As the years went by let me tell you, this child is so loved. He is perfect in every way, and he is my son. When I look at him I don’t see the bad that happened to me, I see a beautiful little boy who cuddles me every morning, and knows when I’m stressed or upset and hugs me to make me feel better, he is all the good things I would have ever wanted in a child.

Sorry for the long back story, but this is why I feel guilty. Because I am now the mother of a newborn baby girl that my husband and I actually tried for. She is my husbands flesh and blood, and she is the product of our love. And since finding out I was pregnant I took bump photos, I touched my belly, and talked to her and felt giddy each time she moved around in there. Whereas with my son I didn’t do any of those things, I didn’t want to feel the kicks, I never even got him any crib or clothes until after he was born. I just feel so guilty for the contrast in the two pregnancies. Has anyone gone through something similar? Are my feelings justified? Will I treat her any different because she was a wanted pregnancy? Will I play favorites with my children? All these thoughts scare me. I’m so much more prepared this time around and when I was pregnant I looked forward to everything that came with the pregnancy, but I feel like I missed all that with my son. He deserved all the love when he was in my belly that I gave to my daughter, but I fell short of doing that... I’ve attached a photo of my son and daughter when I look at him I can’t imagine loving another child as much as I love him. But when I look at my daughter Eden I see this perfect little baby with parts of her resembling my husband and myself, she was ever so wanted and though I love her I hope to have that same type of love I have with her that I have with my son. I am not a religious person but I pray for guidance and relief of this guilt. Guilt for the love I didn’t give my son when I was pregnant and guilt for even wondering if I can love these two beautiful children equally and not favor one over the other. For those who have read this far, thank you. I just needed to get this out because my postpartum depression and anxiety have brought up all these feelings.