This time last year, other than being pleased I was pregnant and staying pregnant, was a torment for me. Dodging suspicious friends, missing my aunt's memorial and a chance to tell my whole family about the pregnancy in person, and not to mention the horrible crushing nausea. Boy am I glad it's this year and not last year!
Recently I had a discussion with a friend with one child about the benefits of one child. While we both admitted to still being somewhat conflicted about pursuing another pregnancy, our conversation reminded me of the old "I'm glad I have no kids, kids ruin your life" conversations I used to have with my other bitter single friends. It's how every conversation sounds when you're trying to talk yourself into not doing something that you want to do, yet you know is not in your best interests.
More and more I feel like Bumpus is enough, that I don't want my attention split among two children. And whenever I think about never enduring another pregnancy and birth, I can literally feel my uterus celebrating, shaking my aged ovaries like little maracas, the dried up eggs rattling like black beans. "Yes! The factory's closed!" (they seem to say).
Talking with my Mom Guru friend last night, who is expecting baby #3 and planning a home birth this time, brought up all kinds of memories of my craptastic birth experience. The NSTs. The bullying. The random high risk ob telling me "we see no point in continuing this pregnancy." People telling me "well, at least you'll get to meet your beautiful baby boy" as I sobbed in terror in the days before the induction, and wanting to strangle them. Watching "The Cranemakers" episode of Cheers on the phone the night before the induction for a little laugh so I could sleep. But also what a champ he was - never a lick of trouble, from the very beginning. Just good natured and easy and relaxed, all the time. If I didn't know better, I'd question his maternity!
I so often tell people, "I'm so glad I did this...ONCE." And that really is the most honest way to say it - I am SO GLAD I faced my fears about pregnancy and birth and made this amazing human being who has already enriched all of our lives. But this is likely a one time deal. If I know what's good for me (and him).
In shifting around and cleaning out the nursery (somewhat), I moved my ancient crib into the bedroom to see if I could maybe get Bumpus to sleep in it. I nursed him and then put him down and he slept soundly - for maybe three hours, at which point I had to lift him out to feed again, and maneuvering him back into the crib only woke him up, so he stayed in the bed the rest of the night. It's a process. At least he seems to like hanging out in there, and I don't have to worry about him rolling off the bed if I take my eye off him for half a second. Today he did a massive, guttural, 57-year-old alcoholic projectile vomit in the crib. Kind of glad he wasn't in my bed at the time, I won't lie.
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