I have three children. Two are mine from my previous marriage, and one is my boyfriend’s son. Three should be enough, right? But every now and then I see some adorable baby, or hear about someone being pregnant, and my uterus jumps up and down, clapping its ovaries and saying, “Oh, yes! Let’s do that again!”
Really, Uterus? Don’t you remember the last time? Oh, don’t get me wrong, my first pregnancy was amazing. Sure I had a little bit of morning sickness, and I was a little tired here and there, but everything was perfect. I was so happy. Even my labor and delivery went ridiculously smooth, and my sweet little bundle of joy was the best baby ever. Ever.
Round 2 didn’t go quite so well. I had horrible aches and pains the whole time (which I was assured was not a big deal). I went through some awful stuff in my marriage that I won’t bore you with here, and my baby was born with a cancerous tumor that resulted in an emergency C-section. Oh, and did I mention the nightmares?
Don’t get me wrong: I wouldn’t trade any of my children for anything in the world. Not even for a unicorn, and I really want a unicorn. But it was tough, and I don’t know how well things would really go this time around. We haven’t made any concrete decisions, and if you ask me whether or not I want a baby my answer will depend on how my current children are behaving that day. But then I see something like this…
…and my uterus starts giggling again.
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Photo courtesy of Artistic Photography by Sydney