THAT'S RIGHT. IT'S BABY MONTH.
Unless by some freak occurrence, I will be holding a new baby by the end of this month and trying to convince Ana her life is NOT in fact, ending.
The other day we had to talk her down from a fit about how the new baby is going to RUIN her birthday because all she does is cry. This babe isn't even here yet and she's already catching flack from her sister. Ah, true sibling-hood.
Someone asked Ana and I in the store the other day if we were having a boy or girl. I said girl (I should have said a troll, like Ana keeps suggesting) and they gave me the...
"You'll have to try for a boy next time!"
I don't think I've ever scoffed and said NO, faster in my life. So here is my general announcement. WE ARE NOT PROCREATING EVER AGAIN BY CHOICE. I told Chris he better pack his own bag for the delivery ward because he's also going under the knife. For a vasectomy.
Don't get me wrong. I LOVE kids. Like, I love almost every one's child (except for yours Tumble Time Loon, don't think I forgot about you and your hell spawn) and having my own is my purpose in life. Raising them, teaching them, just being near them, it's all the greatest thing in the world for me.
But I NEVER want to be pregnant ever again. I hate being pregnant. I'll wait for the gasps of "How could you?! Your body does something so miraculous and beautiful!!"
*sips lukewarm coffee*
Yeah, I'm super proud of what my body can do and the magic of it is NOT lost on me. But it's also hard. Physically and mentally and it's not a short "I'll do this and once the baby is out, I'm good to go!" As if growing a whole other person inside of you and your body making accommodations for that, and weird ones at that, aren't enough, you have the FOURTH TRIMESTER. Haven't heard of it?
It's a rough period where both you and an infant, who had everything familiar ripped away from them, have to adjust to life. Which means an ENORMOUS drop in hormones, a sore body (you don't even fully recover from childbirth for a year), and the struggle of trying to figure out this new person who depends on you for everything.
There's a reason I remember the fourth trimester with Ana better than my entire pregnancy and delivery. Because that shit is ROUGH. I called my Mom as a defeated new parent a couple days after getting home from the hospital because I felt so broken. This time around, Chris and I are a little wiser and in a better position to split the caregiving though, so for that, I'm thankful.
So for any other Mom's out there saying "I hate being pregnant" or even just feeling it, it's not just you. Some women love it, some women hate it and it doesn't make either one any less of a mother.
So now that I've dropped this rant on you, take a look at our vintage style nursery we've put together. Some ideas were Pinterest inspired, but most of it was stuff we had on hand.