Today two things happened
#1, my doctor trip.
I barely ever go to the doctor. It’s not like I made this choice consciously because I’m anti modern medicine (I’m not) but more because I don’t get sick that often (with anything stronger than a cold or tummy bug) and because I’m lazy. Is it important for a woman to have a lady-parts doctor? Probably, but I don’t have one (until today) and after Paige’s birth (hospital) I didn’t even go back for a post partum checkup (again laziness and because I was fine, right?) I didn’t even remember I needed a six week check up with my midwife until I saw the doula outside my house because she was seeing my neighbor for a home birth! Smooth move — in she came to do a tummy check and chat for a bit.
Something though, hasn’t felt right. I’m not a skinny gal by any means; I’ve got little legs and little wrists and the rest is bellies, hips and breasts babe-ahh. I’m proud of my womanly body, but this time around at 8 months post partum I look 5-6 months pregnant. Huge! And I’ve written about this before but since that last post it hasn’t gone away, and it started to bother me. Besides the fact that adorable little tee shirts and empire waist dresses are just not an option, I feel horrible both emotionally, and physically (hello back pain). I was pressing on my uterus area the other day and experienced some random bleeding, so I thought “it’s time, doctor time..!” and for the week leading up to my appointment I envisioned all sorts of horrific scenarios: was I dying? Did I have watermelon sized uterine fibroids? Would they have to remove my uterus?
Today I went to the doctor for an exam. My 2 hour experience wasn’t horrific but I was reminded why I avoid this activity, and why I had a homebith. The first was that I waited over an hour to even see a nurse who did vitals..and after that another 30 minutes for a quick visit from a doctor who was nice, but impersonal. Is it childish I want to connect with my doctor? Anyway my uterus is not the size of a watermelon (whew) and I do have some serious stomach muscle separation and possible tissue0-issues so I’m going in for an ultra sound next week. The bottom line: nothing serious.
#2 a sad thought
This is the second half of my post.
While having paranoid fantasies about the state of my body, I thought about how I would feel if I was told “no more babes..” My first thought was I’ll admit, relief — no more babes means I don’t have to live with the paranoia that I could one day find myself pregnant again. And my second thought was “and that would be such a bummer…”
I’m a two kid person, I really am. There are days I can barely maintain a level of sanity raising a 3.5 year old and an 8 month old. My car is the perfect size for two dogs, two children, and two grown ups. Now that Wyatt is crawling Paige is taking a little more interest in him as a play-thing and my days are a bit easier because between his amusing himself, and her pretend play I have chunks to do read um be a housewife or whatever. Three kids would, and I quote FUCK US. But my friend is pregnant, and my favorite blogger is pregnant, and today I looked at this tiny pair of brown ballet flats Paige wore and I thought how sad it was that we are done.
The thing is while there’s so many reasons to have just one more, there’s so many not to.
My question for mommas (and poppas) please:
How many children do you have and would you want just one more?