I’m in the home stretch. I have about 10 weeks to go in my pregnancy, assuming I’m not induced early. Either way, my doctors aren’t allowing me to go past my due date. Something I suppose I should be happy about, and I am most of the time, but it’s also bittersweet… This is my second, and last baby.
The plan (assuming I don’t have an unexpected C-Section), is that at 12 weeks postpartum, I’ll have my tubes tied. Now, I come from a big family. I’m the oldest of ten kids. And I guess I’ve always harbored this idea that I would have a big family as well. Not 10 kids, of course! But I don’t know, 4 or 5 seemed like a decent number.
Clearly, I never considered the underlying logistics of that amount of children. Or the fact that I’m a working mom. Or this assumption that I would be one of those pregnant moms that didn’t have any complications. Sure, I knew about morning sickness. And some of the other unpleasantries associated with pregnancy. But it didn’t seem to be that big of a deal for my friends. I figured I’d have a similar experience.
Until I actually got pregnant with my son three years ago. And it was pretty awful. Don’t get me wrong, I have no regrets or anything. But I had a rough time. That morning sickness thing like they have in the movies?
NOT. MY. EXPERIENCE.
I started puking from the moment I woke up until mid afternoon. There was a window where I could eat from about 2-6 PM, and then the night sickness started. Every day. For 4 months.
Nothing helped. I started to fear that my boss was going to fire me. The majority of my work day consisted of puking my guts out in the bathroom that SERIOUSLY wasn’t close enough. Because I live in America and the way we treat pregnant people is terrible. These aren’t fears that lack validity.
(Spoiler: I wasn’t fired.)
One morning, I woke up puking up blood. This led to an overnight visit in the hospital, where they did a scope that discovered that all that throwing up eroded my esophagus. I was prescribed an anti-nausea medication and a heartburn medication for the rest of the pregnancy.
Later, I was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes. A couple weeks after that, Pregnancy Induced Hypertension. Something I was eventually induced for. Then came the 40-hour labor, 4 hours of pushing…it wasn’t pretty.
This time around, I was diagnosed with all of these conditions. And a hell of a lot earlier, because of my history. Which led to several medications. And a high-risk diagnosis. I have four different types of doctors that I have to deal with. In 2 weeks, I start twice a week office visits, on top of non-stress tests and frequent ultrasounds. On top of my work, my family, and all around mompreneur hustling.
Frankly, I can’t do this again. I mean, I’m not so “High-Risk” that I’m in mortal danger if I carried another child. Probably. It’s not quite that dramatic. But another pregnancy increases my risk of developing quite a few health conditions in the future, and potential risks to a baby since it’s not my first rodeo.
I wish I had easy pregnancies, but I don’t. I’m fortunate enough that I’m able to carry children of my own at all. So many aren’t that lucky. I may always kind of wish I was going to have another baby(and maybe I’ll be in a position to adopt one day), but the oven(as they say) is getting shut down. And maybe that’s OK.
I’ll make book babies instead, right?