“My Story… ” Monday: G – A Third Baby?

As they prepped me for surgery when C. was born, a time so very frightening and dramatic, I recall murmuring to my husband, “Well, I guess we’ll probably only have two children, no matter how things work out, now… “

 

I don’t know for sure what was going through my head just then, but I imagine it was tied to the idea that we had always been one of those couples who wanted “two or three” kids.  At that wild moment in time, I figured that one of two things was bound to happen: 1) this 24-week baby would survive and would have significant needs, thus making it difficult/impractical to have another child to care for OR 2) this baby wouldn’t survive and my possible third pregnancy would result in two living children.

 

Morbid?  Perhaps, but it was a very intense, emotional time.  This is just a peek into the wild thoughts that raced and swirled through my mind.  I went into the OR fully expecting that I would wind up as a mother of two.  One way or another, that was my “goal” at that point.

 

But C. made it.  And beat a heck of a lot of odds.  While it’s true that we brought her home on oxygen, an apnea monitor, and a feeding tube… while it’s true that she’s always received therapies and needed vision correction… realistically, by the time she was a year old, parenting her wasn’t all that different from any “typical” child.  It certainly wasn’t terribly draining or time-consuming.

 

And I realized I wanted another baby.

 

Not too long after that, I was able to go off the anti-depressants and also the mini-Pill.  I made quick work of dropping the weight I’d gained on those silly pills and felt oh-so much better about myself.  I was neither “trying” nor “not trying” and, well, the result was that I did not get pregnant during 2007.  And, really, I was fine with that.  I was busy with my two little ones and feeling healthy and happy.

 

In 2008, I started blogging!  I also started having issues with a lump that needed to be investigated.  I wrote a lot more about that right here and, as you already know, I was unable to have the surgery upon which we had decided.  Instead of laparoscopic surgery, I found out I would be getting a baby.

 

Awesome trade, in my opinion.

16 weeks pregnant with G.

Of course, because I had given birth at 24 weeks, I was never to be blessed with a cheerful, worry-free pregnancy again.  Happy?  Oh, yes.  Yes, I was.  But also, I was scared.  I desperately wanted to make it further in this pregnancy.  I feared going into preterm labor again, and since they simply had no idea what had caused it with C., there was really nothing I could do to even try to avoid it.  I just had to hope.  And pray.

 

That would have been stressful enough, to be honest.  But, as I’ll tell you next week, I was about to have even more thrown on my plate… and the panic was about to set it.

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