With one child, it’s hard to imagine chasing two or three around and being pregnant at the same time – but people do say that with every addition it gets easier. Is that really true? With her third child on the way, Alanna puts the saying to the test…
You’d think by the third pregnancy I would have had it all figured out by now. The weight gain, the swelling, that constant need to pee, it’s all so glamorous isn’t it?
Actually, I can handle that.
My last two pregnancies (both girls) were very similar; I spent nine months getting fat.
Very gracefully I’ll add… there are not a lot of people in this world who can rock a pair of Birkenstocks with every single item in their closet.
So sufficed to say going into baby number three I knew what I was getting into. And to be honest, I haven’t found this pregnancy much different than the previous two aside from the fact I’m growing a boy. This time I’m a little less fat, a little more tired and I feel a lot older. I think more of that has to do with being a pregnant parent of two, then actually being pregnant.
I am most nervous about the delivery.
Four years ago, while in my twenties, I had my first baby. I think that delivery was supposed to be the scariest one- it wasn’t. I had watched a delivery on TV and I knew enough to order an epidural so as far as I was concerned I was ready. Twelve hours later, apart from a few stitches here and there I recouped nicely as my little 8lb 14 oz bundle slept.
Baby number two was delivered two years ago. Because I knew what I was getting into I had high expectations for a similar delivery. Ironically, this was not the case. I was sick the entire labour, my doctor never turned up, and neither did my epidural… oh, and I pushed out a 9lb 10 oz baby.
Don’t ask about the stitches.
(But if you would like to know, it does all go back to normal…)
Did I also mention I was still in my twenties?
Somehow recouping in your twenties seemed a lot easier. Now when something happens I tend to just ignore it; mothers have no time to get sick. I just wonder how I’ll be able to ignore stitches, bleeding and… my other two children.
What I have learned from my previous deliveries is simply that nothing goes according to plan and I don’t deliver small babies. I have had my heart set on a 6lb bundle of boy, but I figure based on my current girth, I have already surpassed that. So now at 32 weeks when my brain has started to go into delivery mode I have hit an all time first for me…panic mode.
Sure logical me says it will all be fine people have been doing this for years; I’VE been doing this for years. But irrational me (who tends to have a very small voice 99% of the time) is telling me this is not going to be awesome.
Pregnancy number three is like riding a rollercoaster. You get on it with a pretty good idea as to what to expect. Nevertheless, as you slowly start to ascent that first giant hill you can’t help but ask yourself why am I doing this as you look around wondering if you can actually get off before it reaches the top.
So far there is no getting off.
And as it stands right now, it seems I am fully prepared to just lift my arms in the air, close my eyes and scream my heart out.