End of My Child Bearing Years
I am the world’s worst mom during the first trimester (and usually a few more weeks more until the heaving dies down). Today I was able to turn on PBSKids on the computer for Cameron before I was dead to the world on the couch. Then after picking up Abby up from school, I managed to take everyone to a cupcake shoppe to try and make up for my horrible-ness as a mother. Here we are at home watching a movie. Then, hopefully I will be able to stomach making some sort of open-can-put-in-microwave dinner before bed before I am dead to the world again.
I know that this is the end of my child bearing years; there is not another pregnancy in me. I could take care of quite a few more brand-new babies, deal with the sleepless nights, poopy diapers, baby food, chasing and attending Sacrament Meeting in the “hallway ward” for the next 15 years. But this pregnancy business? Nope, goodbye. I won’t miss ya. No, I don’t have a good attitude about it, and I have tried to really push fast through all these pregnancies so I can be done with the child-bearing years of my life.
Good riddance to you. Good riddance to spending the day on the brink of bawling, throwing up everything, trying to just be still and close my eyes in HOPES that something stays down. Good riddance to heartburn, achy backs, carrying around 10 lb. babies that shouldn’t be able to fit in me. Good riddance to spending the day talking to myself: “I can’t do this, I can’t do this. You can do it! Picture brand new babies. Picture them — REMEMBER THEM!”
Props to all of you who pop out #4, #6, #7, etc. You are WONDER WOMEN I tell you, wonder women.
I’m grateful I’ve been allowed to be able to bear children after a few years of thinking it would never happen. I don’t want to hurt anyone who is currently in a stage of life where their body won’t let them bear children. Also, I do realize (and am reminded quite a bit) that so many have it far worse than me. But really, this has been the hardest time of my life. Rant over, I promise. Not another one till I am about to pop. Then I think I’ll deserve just one more.