I am pregnant with my fifth child. This occasionally astounds me. Sometimes it is hard to wrap my brain around the fact that I have had FIVE different human beings growing inside of me.
Being a pregnant woman who is finally pregnant enough for people to see that I'm growing larger because there is a BABY in there (and that it is safe to acknowledge my pregnancy) is bittersweet. Not because I'm not happy because BOY HOWDY AM I. It is bittersweet because the question is almost always one of two: "When are you due?" and "How many kids do you have?"
The first question is an easy one. I'm due January 9th. Pretty simple right? The second question is a lot tougher. I am pregnant with my fifth child, but due to a loss before we had our son, you will only ever get to see four of my babies.
In conversation, I find it easier (for the other person) to call this baby my fourth, but a little piece of my heart breaks off whenever I do. (As I know there are many of us who have suffered miscarriage, I'm curious as to how others answer this question. Please feel free to comment with advice.)
Few people really knew how devastating the loss of my child was for me. I didn't blog for a month then started with joke posts and then *poof* - suddenly I was pregnant again. My son was born and life went on. I didn't really share about the stress and worry all during his pregnancy about whether he was going to be OK. You got to hear me whine a lot about how sick I was and other things that upset me at the time, but you never heard about the baby that never got to come home and never got a chance to be a part of our family.
During my pregnancy with my son, I had a lot of fear and a lot of emotion that I never really expressed. In retrospect, I am certain that this affected my ability to enjoy being pregnant. I constantly waited for something to go wrong. My labor and delivery was a rough one and I'm convinced that it is because I spent so much time being ruled by fear that I could never just let myself go and relax enough to enjoy the experience.
Now, as I sit here, pregnant with my fifth child, I refuse to let fear rule me for another minute. I am tired of being afraid. I have had an ultrasound that tells me that this baby is fine. Statistically, the chances of loss are low. Yesterday, I saw my daughter on a screen, moving and kicking with a healthy heart and a perfectly formed little body. I saw a hundred little pieces of evidence that she is going to be in my arms in a matter of months.
So...it's time to do something that I should have done a long time ago.
You are hereby evicted. You can just move along and go hang out with the depression that I kicked to the curb awhile back. I'm all done with you. You ran the show for too long and that's all over now. I'm tired of you sucking the joy out of things that should bring happiness and joy to my life.
Don't let the door hit you on the butt on your way out.Now that that is done, I'm going to concentrate on sitting back, relaxing and searching for little itty bitty girly things to welcome my precious fifth child. I will be joyful and excited and I will *squeeee* a lot. I will surround myself with the color pink. I will dance happily and revel in the fact that estrogen will soon take over our house.
...and if you see me doing anything less? Give me a good hard *poke* and remind me of what I've said today. I will appreciate and love you for it.