I’m discovering a few things about being pregnant after 30:
It royally stinks.
Deep, huh? Okay, an elaboration would look like this:
I am soooo tired. I want to hibernate for the next 6 months. And then 6 more for good measure. My tailbone magically hurts and I blame being pregnant. As I chase my wild hellions around the house, I seriously begin to question my sanity. I mean, a mental institution is looking like the best vacation ever right now. I’m sure I cannot vouch for my intentions at 3am when I’m tired, hungry (again!), and dealing with the irish twins’ serial night terrors.
Whining aside, the pregnancy is going really well. 😉
But could we talk about how hard it is to be pregnant with an already ‘large’ family? Because I’m finding that harder than any of the physical symptoms. When you announce your pregnancy, everyone is surprised. The responses range from ‘Oh, wow!’ to ‘Are you sure you know how babies get here?’ Yes, folks, I have no idea where these other kids came from. Please, give me a run-through of sex ed. again! The most demoralizing are the variations of ‘Not again!’ Now, many comments are vaguely supportive but the background seems to be one of (mostly) polite disbelief. The majority of sincere ‘Congratulations!’ I have gotten are from friends in much the same boat as myself. (Hmmm…maybe it’s only sincere because we’re crazy together….)
Desperate for some kind of positive feedback, I have resorted to Walmart cashiers for congratulations. They’re mostly restrained by societal convention: if they think I’m crazy, they do it in their own head. And I get my much-needed support for my life choice.
Yes, life choice. Mostly that terms floats around alternative lifestyles. Well here’s a newsflash about this lifestyle: I choose it. I choose to be a mother of 5 or more children.
This does not mean I’m a saint, a martyr. Believe me, if someone tried to give me a ‘Mother of the Year’ award I would take off running in the other direction. No one knows their flaws and imperfections like the mother of so many children.
But I’m not stupid, crazy, or an idiot either. Much of the negativity I feel seems to focus on the assumption that my husband and I have no idea the difficulties we’re in for. Of course not. After living with family for two years and barely scraping by in our own place, I have no idea the difficulties another mouth and set of arms will bring. Yes, the emotional, physical, and financial toll gets worse with each child. Especially for an ADHD, depressive mother with Fibromyalgia married to an ADHD husband with ADHD children. Believe me, I know the toll. I live with it every day.
What is the point of this cranky, pregnant lady rant? I’m tired of the negativity. This life that I’ve chosen is hard enough; I deal with my own demons every day (not just the ones I birthed). I can’t handle the burden of your disbelief or shock on top of that. I won’t carry it any more. Call it pregnancy hormones, but this stuff keeps me up at night.
Since I need my sleep, here it is:
My Pregnancy Manifesto
I’m pregnant. It’s number 5.
And please mean it.