Mother Nature vs. Amanda

I had to comment on Shauna's most recent post, as the entire thing made me giggle. Well, there was the giggling mixed with the "I told you so" feeling (I love that feeling!)

The year was 1996 - when dinosaurs roamed the earth and many people still had tape decks -
and I gave birth to a beautiful little boy named Aerik. He was over 10 pounds, took a round of preeclampsia, a long and itchy round of obstetric cholestasis, and 48 hours of labour to get here. I hemorrhaged, he had an initial APGAR of 6 (read: not good), I had to be stitched up, and I used a sitz bath for days and days. He was tongue-tied, nursing was excruciating, he was gassy and we both cried. A lot. Oreos became my friend, I gained a lot of post-partum weight and I ended up on antidepressants.

And, most importantly, I swore I would never, EVER have another baby. Never would I do that to myself again. He was all I needed and wanted. The hole in my heart that longed for motherhood was successfully filled, thank you very much.

That feeling lasted until shortly after Aerik's first birthday, when I found myself with a baby - nay, toddler - who could speak, run circles around me and sleep (mostly) through the night. He was funny and rambunctious and so gosh darn perfect that it would seem a shame to waste all those eggs in me. Why not have one more?

Wait a minute! I told myself. There was something I didn't like about the whole pregnancy and birth and newborn thing. What was it again? The preeclampsia? Well, research suggests that won't happen again. Problem solved. Obstetric Cholewhatsis? I can't even say it, so I doubt that'll happen again. It can't be that common. We know how to fix a tongue-tie now, right? And I know more about breastfeeding latches. Those nights weren't that long, were they? He didn't cry that much, did he? And they're so cute. So, so cute...

Reality check: The nights were that long, and he did cry that much. The problem here is that Mother Nature was dulling my memory; Twisting it and making it seem easier and more pleasant. And you know what? It worked. It worked so well that we spent the next four years trying to have a second child.

This is where I made a terrible mistake. I wanted that baby so badly that I did, indeed, lose myself in infertility. I was blindsided; I didn't see it coming. How had we managed to conceive a child without even trying, only to find ourselves battling the cruelty of PCOS' worst symptom? I couldn't get pregnant. When I finally did, I miscarried. It was a dark, lonely, frustrating time. I went from someone who took childbearing as her God-given womanly right, to feeling betrayed by my body.

One day after our miscarriage in the spring of 2001, I came to the sudden and painful realization that I had lost sight of what was right in front of me: a beautiful, precious boy named Aerik. A gift to a now infertile couple. I had forgotten to fully appreciate what I already had because I was so busy trying to get more. We were a family - an unplanned, sometimes dysfunctional but always loving family. That is when I made the decision to be grateful for what I already had. We still worked towards our goal of a larger family, but not obsessively.

In the spring 2002 I found myself pregnant again. This one stuck around, and Declan was born in the fall. Just as perfect as I had imagined, and a better sleeper to boot! No tongue-tie, champion breastfeeder, and worth all those years of trying.

That put an end to my obsession over having babies. Jackson was a "not really trying, not really preventing" baby. In fact, we just had decided we were finished making babies right around the time sperm met egg. Oops. A happy oops, mind you.

But I'm done, now. Really done. He's sixteen months old and I still feel complete.

...Except that all my friends are having babies lately. Scrunchy, sweet-smelling, cuddly newborns. And girls, too. A lot of them are having girls...Maybe if we just had one more...

Damn you, Mother Nature.