1. Aimee was the one who suggested that it was possible that I might be pregnant, and I’ll never, ever forget that feeling when I looked at the calendar and realized that I actually might be. We were in the kitchen in our old apartment on Harriman Court, and she was standing by the refrigerator. I looked at the calendar, remembered that I had celebrated my birthday the month and that I had definitely had my period then. And it was holy moly, OH-MY-GOD, I was more than a week late. I have never, in my entire life, been as shocked as I was that day. That’s why Marc says that I’ve successfully predicted thirty six of my last three pregnancies. I know predict I’m pregnant all the time, because I was surprised so completely the first time.
2. I threw up consistently, all nine months, with all three of my babies. And it was still my favorite pregnancy symptom, because in my head, if I was vomiting, it was a healthy pregnancy. In fact, I think I talked myself into puking on several occasions, because when I was puking, I KNEW it was a good pregnancy.
3. I ended up in the hospital with both Sam and Julie’s pregnancies, because the vomiting got so bad in the first trimester that I was dehydrated to the point where I couldn’t hold anything down. I’d feel so sick I couldn’t eat or drink, which, ironically, just made me feel sicker. Once I was on that cycle, it only stopped when I’d get hooked up to an IV and rehydrated.
4. Jessie was breech and wouldn’t turn. So we scheduled a c-section. I went on maternity leave early, then she flipped. And was then so overdue, that they scheduled an induction for the following Monday. On Friday morning, at the start of a massive snowstorm, I went into labor on my own, and still ended up with a c-section after my contractions stalled out at nine centimeters.
5. My blood pressure dropped really low after Jessie was born, and I couldn’t stop shaking. I had passed out and it gets a little fuzzy now that I’m remembering it. But I know that nothing about the situation stabilized until Marc brought my baby girl over and laid her next to me. Once I had her with me, I was fine. It was an instant connection and unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. She was MINE in a way that I could never have imagined, and I couldn’t imagine my life without her in it. I remember consciously thinking that I couldn’t stop shaking and because I was so violently shaking, I couldn’t hold her. And since I couldn’t hold her, I might as well just pass out. So I did. And it wasn’t until Marc brought her to me, and I looked into her eyes that I stopped shaking and the blood pressure stabilized.
6. My water broke, in the glass elevator at St. V’s, when I was two weeks away from my due date with Sam. Standing there, holding onto my little three year old Jessie. It was July, I was hot and miserable and absolutely delighted (although mortified that I appeared to have wet my pants in the elevator) that it was happening a week earlier than expected. Jessie had been close to a week overdue. I was completely shocked, and the fact that his delivery was so quick and so easy (I went from five to ten centimeters in a half hour), and then he was a boy (I was positive he was a girl) – I spent the first 24 hours after he was born still trying to catch up.
7. He was born separation anxiety, and knew, right from the very first minute, who I was, who he was, and that when we were separated, it was bad. Kids really are exactly who they are from the very beginning.
8. Julie was my worst pregnancy, I was so sick and so itchy and I cried all the time – but her birth was beautiful and peaceful and lovely. She was born after only two pushes and Marc and I were laughing when she arrived. There have been lots of times, over the past almost twelve years, when I’ve really, really loved him. But that moment, when he was right beside me, with his arms around me, laughing with utter delight as we welcomed our baby girl is one of my all time favorites.
9. I love the three to four year age difference between my kids – it’s perfect for our family. I love having a ten year old, a seven year old, and a three year old. And it was just as cool when they were 9,6, and 2, and all the way down. Each one is at a different stage, a different place and they’re close enough so that they can be buddies as well.
10. As much as I loved being pregnant, and as much as I loved being a mama with tiny babies – I think we’re done. I don’t think we’ll ever KNOW for sure that we’re not having anymore (until it’s just a physical impossibility) but our family feels complete in a way that it didn’t before.
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