I always thought I wanted like FIVE kids…well maybe six, but seriously I wanted a big family. Then I got pregnant with Cole and realized that although I love being a mom, I HATE being pregnant. I really really don’t like it, it is so odd. I think I am too selfish for pregnancy, but not for motherhood…9 months vs. 50 years and yet I still can’t deal!
When we lost the baby in April I thought I was done. I thought I didn’t even want to ever go again. I was 11 weeks when we miscarried…I was almost past the gross first trimester, I had already marked all the weeks in our calendar. And then that baby was gone-POOF! All in one go. It wasn’t necessarily loosing that baby that was hard, I know I have medical issues and that keeping a baby till term is not as likely for someone like me, it was giving up myself so wholey and then being hurt. I loved that baby, I was ready for it. I still look at the calendar and see the crossed off weeks, that baby was due this month. Some people struggle with miscarriage for years, I don’t know how they do that. I don’t know what another miscarriage would have done to me, I don’t know if I would have been willing to ever try again if it had happened again. I had faith that it wouldn’t, my husband wanted more kids and I was willing to open myself again to the 10 months of incubation, but I wouldn’t have done it again if we had another miscarriage.
I am now 5 months pregnant, this baby is looking quite healthy. He has all his little legs and arms and he is not showing the signs of a chromosomal defect. Things can always go wrong, I know that my body is imperfect. I know that life is not certain. But I love this little baby boy so much already. I love him as much as I loved the baby dos we lost in April.
I hate being pregnant, but I love being a mom. I can’t wait to meet the little man we call Henry. I do wonder, now, if he will be the last…or if I might be willing to open my uterus to yet one more some day….