In my head is a little room that I keep all my post ideas in. It is currently quite full, and yet there is a fat kid blocking the door so none of the posts can get out.
That fat kid is this post.
You may have noticed me talking about pregnancy the last few days. A few newer readers assumed I was trying to ease you all into a little secret known as “I’m totally pregnant.” Alas, that is not the secret, as much as I wish it was.
It is me trying to remember all I can about the one pregnancy I had in case in doesn’t happen for me again, it’s dawning on me that this is a huge possibility. At least once a day the moosh asks about her brothers and sisters and wonders where the heck they are. I simply tell her it’s not my turn yet.
It may never be my turn again.
82% of monogamous couples who participate in unprotected sex will get pregnant within 9 months. It’s been over three years for us. To that? I say, “bah.”
This is where I get a little crazy. While I would never wish a miscarriage upon anyone, and I myself have never experienced the heartache that surely results from one, I almost wish it would happen to me.
To give me some sort of twisted assurance that my body is still capable of getting pregnant.
Alas, with all this focus on not being able to get pregnant, I forget this whole thing called Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG) that is quite likely to happen again if and when I ever do get pregnant. It was bad enough the first time and I only had to worry about myself. But now I have the moosh to worry about and I’m thousands of miles away from any family.
So before I even worry about the stress (and blessing of course) of having two children, I have to worry about staying alive for the 9 months it will take to bake the second one. I don’t have 60 pounds to lose this time.
I’d like to be all faithful and thankful that it’s not happening because it’s just not our time yet. And yet having babies born around me all. the. time. makes me a little jealous and huffy. Why is it everyone else’s turn? Their oldest kids are younger than the moosh in most cases. Meh.
I’m able to hold on to that faith for a while. A sweet woman at church wrote me a random note saying that it’s not my fault that I can’t get pregnant, the Lord needs me just the way I am for now so that I can do His work. And it’s true, I couldn’t do a lot of what I do with a second mop of curly hair in tow.
It’s really hard to throw myself a pity party when I look at it that way.
Yet at the same time, it’s so easy to look at it in the sense that I’m just not stable enough to handle two.
So actually the Lord is doing everyone a favor and keeping me a mother of one. Heh. You’re welcome Cody.
Pessimism, optimism, I can go either way depending on the day.
There may be more on this subject later. But I’ve pretty much shoved the fat kid through the door. We’ll see if he parks it on the stoop now or scrams.