Six years ago I gave birth to my third born, a son who was a difficult little traveler, burdensome bunker and an all around pain in the backside before his beautiful little face ever saw the light of day. It was a difficult pregnancy. I was miserable for reasons I can't really even pinpoint, but much of it was emotional and constant physical discomfort.
The delivery wasn't as easy as my previous two, and let me be clear compared to many brave women it was a piece of cake. But come on! Whatever happened to the saying, "third time's the charm" because this pregnancy wasn't. Again, I know many have had it way worse than me and I will confess I am a bit of a baby. Lots of things culminated into the worse mistake of our lives--though at the time we were oblivious.
My parents thought we should be done, "three healthy babies are plenty, why risk a problem?" My doctor thought we should be done--although it turns out his opinion may have been based more on, umm shall we say, personal opinion rather than professional. Heck, after being miserable for almost 9 months, we thought we were done. And there was that darn high blood pressure.
So almost exactly on month after my little charmer was born, my husband had a vasectomy. Snippity-snip--no more babies for us.
Or maybe not...and our story begins.
No comments:
Post a Comment