So many factors to consider when deciding whether or not to have another baby.
Changing diapers again, nursing or bottles, not sleeping for months, how my child will respond to a new baby, the jealousy, the rivalry, her possible regression. All of these I can deal with -- for me though the pregnancy itself is the biggest concern.
I have a condition called Hyperemesis Gravadarum. It basically means you throw up a lot during pregnancy. With my daughter, if I only threw up three times in a day, it was a good day. Usually it was seven or so. I lost fifteen pounds the first trimester, and my friend jokingly said every cloud has a silver lining, but let me tell you there is a fine line between looking good and looking gaunt.
I played many mind games with myself when I was pregnant. I'd trying seeing if I ate in a different location of the house if I'd feel better. Or changing ingredients, or eating at different times of day. I carried bags everywhere with me. I even walked down the isle (I was 10 weeks along on our wedding day) with a friends handmade bridal barf bag nearby, should I need it. I swore off certain foods forever after they didn't stay down. I even wondered if I ever liked food before, since during that period I couldn't remember a time anything ever tasted good.
Smelling became an issue too. Any scent of food could send me running to the nearest toilet. Cleaning products, perfume, even certain flowers just made me want to heave. People made suggestions and I appreciated their concern but no one could understand that there was little that could help. People suggested smelling lemons, drinking ginger ale, ginger tea, eating saltines. As if I hadn't thought to try most of those things. Even Zofran, the cancer medication, didn't help for me. It didn't stay down, like everything else.
In week fifteen I finally felt a lot better. I had energy and could eat again. I enjoyed that part of my pregnancy very much. I got excited with every movement and kick and never stopped thinking it was amazing whenever it happened. I was proud to be showing, unlike in the first trimester when I was so sick with nothing to show for it. I enjoyed fantasizing about whether the baby was a boy or girl and what to name it.
The third trimester sucked. I began getting sick again. I was big and uncomfortable. To make matters worse, I got a pinched nerve from teaching too much and it killed. I was ready when my due date finally arrived, and my Doctor said he could feel the head, and that I was two centimeters dilated. All was a go, except my pinball wanted to stay in longer so she made us wait eleven more slow-as-molasses days. When she did come though, we had the surprise of learning she was a girl, getting to give her our favorite name, and the knowledge of knowing I wouldn't throw up again.
Now we are thinking of doing it all again. Looking back, there are very few things I can say that can make throwing up worth it, but the moment she was in my arms and everyday since is worth that suffering. For her, and for us, lets do it again. This is the LAST time though.
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