Baby Lala: Week 9

Jon and I have been praying and considering the idea of having a third baby since the day that I stopped breast feeding Henry. Jon was putting Henry to bed, and I told him that I needed a minute to cuddle with him, too. "What if this is my last baby?" The idea that I might be done with the "baby" stage, forever, made me sad.

I honestly didn't feel like I was done. And as soon as I was blessed this year, with the opportunity to teach from home, it became a reality that a third baby would be a consideration.

On March 1, I was so excited when I peed on a stick and saw the long-awaited second line. The idea that I wasn't done changing diapers, and cleaning throw up, and cuddling chubby legs was such a blessing. I knew that I wanted to enjoy every moment, and try my best to not take a thing for granted...

But I'm not going to lie. I don't like being pregnant. I am not one of the few fortunate to miss out on the "morning sickness" fun. In fact, it's all day sickness. The kind that if I eat, I am sick, and if I don't eat, I am sick. My usual spunk is gone. Sundays where I get to catch up on my week; clean the house, go for a run, and play with the kids has evolved into a 5 hour nap. Saturdays at T-ball, all I can think about is the metal taste in my mouth, and will everyone judge me if I run to the bushes for a minute because my breakfast is starting to come up? My hair is a mess, and my body is taking a strange form. It takes all the energy that I can muster to roll out of bed in the morning, and before my kids go to bed most nights, I am already in bed. And then there's the constipation, and my aching boobs...(tmi, I know, but it feels good to talk about it).

(How do I look 4 months pregnant at 9 weeks?)

The other night, Jon and I were arguing about whether my brother was in the hospital room while I was giving birth to Henry. The long of the short of it is, I was right, and he was wrong (which isn't normally the case). I got so frustrated with him, that I threw my water bottle and cell phone on the floor. And as I was calling my brother to get a second opinion about the situation, I left him a phone message; me screaming at Jon. (Which I am blessed about, because how else would I realize what a psycho I am?).

Say I am making excuses all you want, but pregnancy makes me a crazy person! I can't get myself under control. If I'm not forgetting something, I am sleeping. If I am not unjustly yelling at my husband, I am throwing up. Coffee literally makes me gag, but if I don't drink the allotted one-cup-a-day, the headache, on top of everything else would be unbearable.

I wish I could be one of those women who find pregnancy "beautiful". The weight gain, the sickness, the crazy bouts of losing my temper are all a normal part of my pregnant day. Lord Jesus, I can't wait to get out of the fog of the first trimester!

I was blessed this week to be in the delivery room with my sister. Brooklyn couldn't have come at a better time. (Like how I can turn the hard work my sister went through to the uplifting of myself? So selfish, Lindsay!)

I was reminded about how really awesome it is to have the privilege of carrying a baby. The reality of what my body is doing right now. And there's nothing like it. That moment when the doctor pulls the baby out of you and places him (or her....:)) on your belly. The moment that you feel the legs and the arms, and the back of the baby that has caused you such havoc for the previous 40 weeks (or in my case with both kids...41 weeks). The baby that you will soon spend pulling your hair out over because of your lack of sleep, or confused disposition, is here. You count the fingers and the toes, and it starts to sink in that this gift you helped to create will rely on you. And it's so scary. It's life changing. And you snuggle with the burrito-wrapped bug that the nurse just cleaned for you, and realize it's coming home with you. It's yours. Forever. And the love that you feel for it is beyond what you expected to feel.

(I got to hold my little niece after her arrival).


And it all stays with you. When your 2 year old spreads an entire bottle of Vaseline around his head, his face, and his room, you don't forget how much you love him. When your five year old is throwing a fit for the millionth time on the way to school, you can't forget that he was once your little newborn. That moment that you realize that there's nothing they can do...nothing, that will ever take away the abundant love that you have for them. And that you would do anything to make sure that they are well taken care of and loved.

So, I guess it's worth it. I'm in a fog this 9th week with my 3rd baby. I'm a mess. And I caught this fever and cold from Henry that is making things worse. I'm complaining, and irritable and tired. But I am so excited.

John 16:21 When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world.

^Right? How true is this verse??????????:)