Waves of nausea crashing over me for no apparent reason does not lend itself to a peaceful night's sleep. Those same waves reappearing the next day and knocking me on my butt, again, for no apparent reason, have solidified one resolve in my mind:
I would be crazy to have any more babies.
Babies on the brain lately. Time to issue an eviction notice.
We have two awesome baby boys. As a kid with only one other sibling, I've never really considered having more than two kids. Two seemed sufficient. My husband was an only child, so he figures we've already achieved something remarkable. Three kids would be crazy. Any more than that would be insane.
Yet, I see these pregnant chicks everywhere and I start thinking... completely crazy thoughts.
I love being pregnant. During the second and third trimesters only. I abhor being pregnant during the first trimester. Loathe it.
I had vicious morning sickness with both my babies (though not like moosh) and was unpleasantly surprised to discover that said morning sickness with the second baby was accompanied by simultaneous utterly uncontrollable peeing in my pants every time I worshiped at the porcelain god. I mean, seriously. Seriously?
So, yeah, uh, I'll pass on the being pregnant again.
And then I see a picture like this:
Granted, Angelina Jolie did not give birth to all of those babies, but still. Doesn't this picture just kill you? Doesn't it look so, I don't know, manageable?*
The worst part is that the giving birth bit is a breeze for me. Well, if you consider absolutely tearing up your vuh-jay-jay every time a breeze. Oh yeah, and wracking pain so fierce that you look like you've been possessed by a demon with epilepsy. But back to the breeziness...
I was in labor with Pants for just a few hours. Real labor. I pushed for maybe ten minutes or something. Breeze.
I pushed once with Goose and he came flying out in one wickedly awesome shot, head to toes, kabam! Booyah- you have yourself a baby rocket! The doctor literally caught him in mid-air as he was sitting down. Had the doctor not been sitting down at that moment, I think the receptionist might have caught him whizzing over her head down the hallway as she answered phones.
The doctor didn't even charge me for the delivery. He said, "All I did was catch."
Oh yes, I can deliver them babies.
But I just don't think I can deal with that first trimester again.
Then I read about the moms who are having trouble getting pregnant or staying pregnant and I think, "Am I refusing a gift here?"
I really am wondering that.
On the flip side, I adore my two boys and fear rolling the dice again. So many things can go wrong. What if I whip out an ugly little dullard this time?
Yes, I'm that shallow when pretend-baby-shopping. What? Did you think I was worried about genetic defects? No, I'm worried about the entertainment factor.
You can not stop at three kids. If you do, one kid will always have to either ride in the roller coaster car by himself, with Mom or Dad, or with a stranger.
Therefore, you have to have even numbers. Sorry, Fussy. That means you have to have one more after this new one. That would make six. All boys, no doubt. Because God laughs. Good luck, babe.
Which means if I want to have another, I would either have to have twins or withstand two more first trimesters.
You see my conundrum now?
But then I look at pictures like this:
And I think, well...
Help me, people. Angelina Jolie has hijacked my brain.
*Please note that I am well aware that she probably has more nanny help than you can shake a stick out, however, I also know that lots of moms manage with beautiful broods of this size without nannies. I just like these pictures. A girl can dream in her fairy tale world.
**PS- I am neither sick nor pregnant. Just tired for a day there.