This is kind of an ultra personal post I’m going to sneak in here on Friday night.
I’ve made much ado about my desire to have a third child. And I do, I really want a third child. But, oh my gosh, you guys, I just don’t want to be pregnant again. I have such a hard time. I know, I know, there are those of you, women who write here on Being Pregnant even, who would kill to be pregnant… But I’m just being honest.
I really, really hate being pregnant.
I feel sick all the time. I gain tons of weight. My bones hurt, hell, my skin hurts. And here’s the other thing… The first three or four months of a baby’s life are so freaking hard! Yes, yes, they are filled with joy and love and overwhelming happiness at the new little person in your life, but they are also filled with sleepless, painful nights, gigantic, achy, leaking boobs and really, just a whole lot of chaos.
When I think of going through the pregnancy and the first three months with two little kids already… Sheesh. The thought terrifies me. My body is only just now beginning to recover from Henry’s occupation. But I want a third child so badly. Three has always seemed like the right number. But the further away from being pregnant I get, the harder it is to fathom going through it again.
What does this mean? Am I really not meant to have a third even though I want one so badly? Do I just need to pull myself up by my bra straps and deal with the difficult part to get to the part where the little larvae baby begins to transform into a human being, just like Henry now? But things seem so great now with the girl and the boy and we’re just now getting into the swing of things as a family of four. Still. Like I said, sometimes it feels like there is just one more out there…
I’m just sending this little missive off into the internets late on a Friday night and if you happen to read it and have any insight, or if you can share your own experience with deciding whether or not to have another child I’d be ever so grateful…