So...I'm 22 weeks pregnant. SURPRISE! For all and sundry who know me well, it is. I've never made any secret of how much I dislike being pregnant and how dubious I feel about my parenting skills. This summer made me realize that parenting isn't just about me and my selfish need to be able to do what I want when I want to. I spent a week with my siblings, father and grandmother in my Aunt's house on Lake Champlain and truly came to realize how much I love and appreciate my sister and brother. I wish that I had more time with them. I also appreciate the bond that I have with them and know that that kind of bond can't be replicated or replaced. No one can sympathize with you about the foibles of your parents the way your siblings can. No one can keep you better grounded than someone who's changed your diapers and watched you grow. I realized that I wanted that for my daughter.
It took me seven years and bribery from my husband, but more than that, it took a week in a small house with my nearest and dearest to get up the courage to bring another person into the world. I hope I'm doing the right thing. It's not been easy so far. Sure, conception took all of 45 minutes, but since then it's been nothing but discomfort and pain for me. For the first three months, I did nothing but vomit and keel over. It made up for all the times I've watched my husband have stomach viruses and never caught them. I truly appreciate a good cold marble floor on a bathroom now. Soon after the vomiting ceased, random bones began to slip their alignment. First it was a rib (NOT at all pleasant) then the excitement slid down to my pelvic cradle, which I doubt will ever be the same. I can no longer walk for more than 10 minutes without excruciating pain. Sitting upright in normal chairs is right out as well. I miss the days when I could sit in my studio for hours and hours on end. Now, if it can't be done from a reclining position in bed, it rarely gets done.
Worst of all was the withdrawal from and consequent longing for Effexor. I Miss My Meds. The hormonal highs and lows really suck when you were never really level to begin with. I've always known that I was not the easiest person to get along with before I went on meds for my OCD and depression, I just forgot how difficult I am (especially to myself). I had three to four years of near normalcy to forget just how persnickety I am and how upset I can get when things aren't exactly as I think they should be. I am a cranky, short tempered, unpleasant beast. I can manage funny and charming for about an hour, then the veneer wears thin and I become irritated at the slightest things, which is only exacerbated by this hormone soup I'm swimming in. I know what it is, I see it as plain as the nose on my face, and yet, I can't seem to be able to control it. The best damage control I've been able to do is isolate myself from the few close friends I have before my behavior completely alienates them. It's hard, because I enjoy my friends most of the time, but I'm also crotchety and prone to brutally honest outbursts that are unpleasant at the least and offensive at the worst. I'm blessed to have a husband that understands, accepts, and is sometimes amused by my erratic behavior. Without his support and love, I definitely would not be able to do this.
I will never have another child, this is it for me. Neither my body nor my sanity can handle the stress of pregnancy. That's not to say I regret my decision. Every time this child bumps around inside me, I smile. I'm looking forward to meeting this little person who's using my pelvic cradle as a hammock and bladder as a pillow. I know it's going to be difficult, but I also am armed with the fact that I know what's going on this time around. I know I'm subject to postpartum depression and have spoken to my doctors about it, the drugs are on hold and ready, waiting. Short of any unforeseen disasters (which could happen) I'm golden. I've declined to even so much as crack the spine of the "What to Expect When You're Expecting", which I obsessed over the first time around and it scared the pants off of me. Sure, eating is a bit of an ordeal, what with being suddenly severely lactose intolerant and prone to vomiting beef product up, but that's temporary. My mantra is that this is only for a short while, and then I'll be fine once the baby is born. Tomorrow we have an ultrasound and determine the sex of the child and make sure all is progressing properly. I pray daily that despite my physical discomfort, this child will be born with a minimum of fuss and will be healthy and prone to all the normal childhood issues. Gas, colds, teething pains, the usual every day childhood issues. I pray that I've made the right decision and that my daughter will love and appreciate being a sister as much as I do. Really, I'll take a healthy kid, it's all I want. I can handle all the emotional woes and irritations that come with the parenting. I just want my children to be healthy.
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