Here’s something unpopular to say: I’ll never be pregnant again and I’m so damn happy! Los Angeles is lousy with pregnant women who could not be more excited to be knocked up. Surely every state is crawling with pregnant women but in LA it’s less a normal state-of-being than a major fashion statement.
Everywhere I go (and admittedly I go a lot of places where there are children; and where there are children there tend to be women who produce children) I see bulging bellies with tight tank tops clinging to them and well manicured hands rubbing said bellies in tiny, “I’m pregnant! I just can’t keep my paws off my baby” circles. Sometimes they rub their lower back in a “my back hurts cause I’m pregnant!” motion. I used to get a little spark of irritation at those women mainly because those “Look at my belly” women are usually also the ones who don’t show anywhere but their belly. I had the misfortune of gaining the majority of my baby weight in my ass so there is probably some residual jealousy.
But lately I don’t find myself feeling anything but ecstatic that I’m not the one busting out of my Old Navy maternity pants. I know. I’m an asshole right? Who wouldn’t want a beautiful little brand new baby? *raises hand shyly* Hi. Yeah. That would be me.
I love that my “babies” aren’t babies anymore. Just as soon as I had my kids I couldn’t wait for them to turn three. And three was somewhat easier but to be honest five is even better. It’s a major relief! I know that it goes by quickly and I know that when they’re all graduating from college I’ll wish they were little again. I know this because people with grown kids looove to tell me. But, listen, the simple fact is, I’m not a baby person.
It’s not that I didn’t want to love and nurture all of my kids as infants and of course the infant time is important for bonding…blah blah blah but I was really kind of hoping to have a baby and then if there was a need for more I would adopt but then, I found myself pregnant with twins and I knew that would be it.
Quick story: when I was pregnant with the twins and before we knew anything was amiss with the pregnancy, my OB asked me if I wanted to have a tubal when she did my C-section. There was a legal document which I signed so fast you would’ve thought it was releasing my lottery winnings to me upon signature. When I delivered my girls at 33 weeks, it was an exceptionally dramatic event. The operating room was packed with people including two teams of NICU staff waiting to receive my babies. Once they were out and breathing and I’d kissed and smelled them both before they were whisked off to intensive care I sobbed with relief. Just then my doctor popped into view to tell me that even though I’d signed the release, I didn’t need to have the tubal right then if I didn’t want to.
All I could think was, “I’ve just been through the pregnancy from hell, I’m looking at a solid year of no sleep, not to mention the fact that I already have a toddler at home oh, and I’m forty-one! You are on crack if you think I have any interest in trying to do this again.” So I said, “Did you already sew me up?” and she said, “No.” And I said, “Then get back down there woman and tie those tubes.”
I guess my point is, there are few things in life that you get to feel truly settled about but this is one of them. So to all my pregnant friends or hoping to be pregnant friends, I am done so you don’t have to ask me if I’m “going for one more” but I’m happy to come over and hold your baby, cook you a turkey lasagna or just listen to you cry. Just try to gain a little extra weight in your ass.