Reminiscing

You're going to laugh at what I'm about to say (or write). I know it. Because it's stupid. That's how I know that at least you'll scoff a little. Some form of breath will leave your lips. I'll almost bet on it.

So here's my news.

I want to be pregnant again.

There. I said it.

Response? I know, I'm stupid. Totally stupid. But let me be more nuanced. I want to be pregnant again, but I don't want a baby =)

That is, that I loved both times how exciting it was to have a baby inside of me. To wear moo moos had I wanted and to not be judged. If I wore a moo moo now, people would just say "well, she's really let herself go, hasn't she?" Which would most likely be the truth anyway (chortle).

It was when Avalon was the age that Willow is at now that Craig and I said to eachother, "yeah, let's have another one!"

Except that Avalon was pretty much what I imagined in my naive youth that having a child would be like. She slept brilliantly from 7pm till 10 for a quick snack, then usually slept again till 7.30am the following day. Sure, she had her moments of teething and sickness which changed that routine, but by and large, we didn't even know we had a child at night she was so settled.

On the other hand, our second daughter Willow has been much more normal. She wakes more often, feeds like a newborn still (at 5 months) and is generally the type of sleep-depriving child that most new mothers talk about. Don't get me wrong. She still sleeps better than some babies. She doesn't wake up and want to play at 3am or anything, but she still wakes, and fusses continually throughout the dark hours.

So my feelings towards pregnancy are completely stupid. I feel overwhelmed as it is. I really don't want another child yet, but for some reason, my body does. Where's the logic in it? I don't know. The depths of the heart are too vast to understand.

I'm hoping it's because, overwhelming-ness aside, I really love being a Mum. I'm hoping that this is just what's buried beneath the blurry eyes and the dark circles. Because in my day, there's not a great deal of time to think about such things. Of anything of the future, really. Because today is so now. Today is so overwhelming. And today has so many things to do in it.

But regardless, the thought came through my mind today. I'd love to be pregnant again. To be hanging up the washing on the line and catch a glimpse of my big belly shadowed on the grass beneath me.

But I know that for my own sake, and for Avalon and Willow, it'd be better to have a Mum in her right mind than loads of brothers and sisters and Mum in an asylum for the insane.

Guilt

I don't think there's anything I've ever experienced that brings me greater guilt than when I can't fulfill my duties as a mother.

I'm writing this while I listen to Avalon with hysterical tears dripping down her face. I've patted her for long enough to get a severe case of heartburn and aching legs that feel as though the veins will explode if i don't give them some time out. And unfortunately, 10 minutes patting and rubbing her while leaning over the cot is the best I can do with my pregnant limitations at the moment. It's such a shame that this is a repeat scenario every Friday and Sunday night when Craig's out and can't assist. It's almost as though she knows.

So I'm sitting here, trying to regain some type of strength so I can head back in and do some more stroking before my legs and arms give way under the strain of carrying another child.

I guess it's times like this where I sometimes think it would be so much easier to have a 3 year old and be in this situation. There's much less guilt when they're fully aware of what is required of them and they have the developed mind to understand what is meant by "it's time to sleep".

Needless to say, I've had a straining day today and I'm feeling more than a little sorry for myself, as Ava has only had 20 minutes sleep all day, and myself, 10. 

Ok, I'm gonna head back in to the zone and try to permeate calmness out of my pores despite feeling like I've been listening to nails down a chalkboard for the last month. (deep breath)

The waiting starts.

As soon as you fall pregnant, you know that there's a time limit on it. One day, before you see this same month again next year, you will hold another child in your arms. And it's inevitable to always be looking ahead.

Sometimes I wish for the impossible- that there is nobody else in the world who is pregnant at the same time as me.

Sure, there's heaps of comfort in grieving together at the loss of your pre-baby body and all the ailments that come with a body used to working for one start to work for two that we can all share, but there's several frustrations about it for me.

Firstly, the company gained in this life-bearing process also means that the comparisons can begin "Oh, you're so small in comparison to..." (insert name here of someone who's baby is gestationally 3 months older than yours- or worse, someone who is due after you), or even "Sarah's baby was 3 kgs at birth, and yours was 4. It must be because of all those hot chips you ate in the early months" (That one can be attributed to my gorgeous mother, who forgets that she already made this same comment last week.) 

 

Of the frustrations of sharing a pregnancy with close friends, here is the hardest part for me. And a warning to readers- this is a string of highly selfish thoughts I'm about to unleash for you, but which at the moment, I seem unable to control.

Several of my close friends have been blessed by God and given children around the same time as me. But with a distinct difference- the three of us have now travelled through 2 pregnancies together, and with each time, I'm the last one still waiting.

Hayley gave birth to her beautiful second daughter, Zara, yesterday. And I am totally over the moon about this new life God has created. I'm happy for the birth and it brings me heaps of joy to hear about it and I'm sincerely delighted for my gorgeous friend, who has gone through her painful 40 week waiting period herself. Unfortunately, my excitement is also intertwined with a niggling thought "I'm still 10 weeks away."

These 10 weeks weren't that long until yesterday. I could have been pregnant for another 20 weeks and have been happy enough to do it. Now they seem like an eternity away.

What's weird about this is that I love being pregnant. I haven't had severe back pain like my friend, Hayley. I'm still coping well in this pregnancy, even with the 3 weeks of over 33 degree days out here and still carrying small, which helps me lug myself up our stairs at home to the 43 degree rooms upstairs. This new little life isn't ready to be born yet. I'm not yet organised anyway, and still this niggling in my brain has started.

My second friend, Sarah, is due in another 5 weeks for her daughter. Again, I'm sure the distance between March 9 and April 11 will be more than a little frustrating for me. When she was due for the first time with her boy, she was 4 months ahead, which was enough for me to settle down into a "my-baby-won't-survive-if-it's-born-now. It's-good-to-be-waiting." mentality. But only 5 weeks ahead is close enough to stay wishful for an early birth. Especially if this heat doesn't let up and even more pressing, if Avalon gets sick again and requires middle of the night stand up cuddles. I must say though that after having a 41 wk and 1 day pregnancy with Avalon, an early birth isn't really a forseeable probability.

The moral of the story is that I'm going to spend the next 10 weeks praying about being as content as possible. For contentment is of great gain! And even if in the next pregnancies ahead I draw the short straw and have to be the one to wait, hopefully the strength God gives me now will naturally flow over to them, too.

Another life

I'm totally thrilled about being pregnant again. As alien-like as it sounds, i enjoy the sensation of this little human squirm around inside of me. But pregnancy is also such a scary time. It reminds me of my limitations. I can't walk very fast without gasping for breath. I can't feel safe to protect myself and Avalon when we're faced with any type of threat. Because my fitness and stamina are so limited.

Ultimately, I think pregnancy makes me a more conservative person. Someone who won't take that chance to go out for the stroll alone at dawn on Saturday morning like I used to in Newtown to get to work at the bakery. Someone who is constantly assessing her surroundings and bypassing the smoking group of teenagers instead of walking past, just in case. It's scary being this scared. Because it's not a decision, it's innate. As though something primal reminds me continually of the life I bear and the other life that can't defend itself that sits up happily in the stroller. The protective thoughts that go through my head now I'm a mother are so foreign to how I would behave before.

A year and a half ago, I would feel confident that I could take on anything and anyone, and come out pretty unscathed. I was a resourceful and independent woman, quite capable of protecting herself from at least one nasty person on the streets. But now, the thought of being attacked with a baby in the belly and a child on one hip, sends me chills. 

I wonder if once my child nurturing years are behind me, I will once again return to the person I formally knew. My guess is that now I've experienced being someone's entire world, that responsibility will continue to shape my behaviour, even after the kids have families of their own. You always hear that motherhood will change your life. I never heard that motherhood would change your personality.