Since the birth of my new little squishy niece (who still doesn’t have a name. Helllooooo new parents — we’re waiting!), I’ve been thinking a lot about my own experience having Sam. I think a huge reason that I don’t want to be pregnant any time soon is that I’ve been kind of scared of doing it again, because of the preeclampsia and the bed rest and how I would manage it if I had to do it again. I didn’t let myself think about it at the time, because it wouldn’t have helped to wallow in it, but it was not fun. Yes, I kept myself busy with cross-stitching and crossword puzzles and knitting and lots of bad TV, but I wasn’t able to do the normal pregnancy things. I didn’t get to nest; I saw the finished nursery from our digital camera. I wasn’t able to take care of myself by staying active; now I am in a cardiovascular hole and out of practice. I wasn’t able to go to prenatal classes and had to learn on my own. We didn’t get the “Honey, it’s time” moment. In a perfect world, those things would have been part of my experience.
I don’t think about this every day, not even every week, because I have an incredible little gift that was created and nurtured by the pregnancy and bed rest. And, given the situation, it couldn’t have gone better. No NICU, no lung immaturity, just a couple of hairy ears. 🙂 But if I could look into a crystal ball and see my future, I’d want to know how the next time was going to be, so I could rejoice in normalcy or be prepared for the couch.