On Having Babies

Friends of ours just had their first baby.  Watching them travel the path to parenthood brought back so many memories of our journey to create Ender.  As happens with many couples our experience was fraught with difficulties.  We could conceive at the drop of a hat - the problem lay in getting past the 6-8 week stage.   Eventually, after much disappointment, physical pain and deliberation on whether to continue the madness, I got pregnant with Ender.  Despite developing gestational diabetes and gaining 1000 pounds* I had a comparatively easy pregnancy.  Minor morning sickness and good energy resulted in a healthy baby boy who changed our lives forever.

I still remember the exact moment when I first touched him and held him in my arms.  My reality took a sudden mind-altering explosive shift into motherhood. It was exhilarating, fulfilling and even though I was dead tired from having just endured 60+ hours of labor following by a mere 20 minutes of pushing, my purpose was crystal clear.  This little person was mine - and I would do anything for him.  Anything.

'Anything' turned out to be living with broken sleep (did you know that is considered a form of torture?), a continually disheveled appearance, a stomach that looked 6 months pregnant even after delivery (what the hell?) and a new eau de sour milk permeating my body and home.   The memory loss and lack of concentration carried over from pregnancy into motherhood.  Not once, not twice, but THREE times within a few weeks I forgot to rinse conditioner out of my hair.  My baby was a poo and pee faucet.  With deadly accuracy he shot the dog in the face with a stream of poo at an approximate distance of 3.5 feet.  On a daily basis I employed moves I'd picked up from The Matrix to avoid getting blasted.  He could fart louder than his dad but rarely puked, so I considered myself lucky.

It all seemed so intense, difficult and consuming.  Ender is now three.  I look back and laugh at my naivety.  Sometimes I wish for a few days with a kid who just lays around eating and sleeping.  But then again, I wouldn't get to see him dialog with McQueen and Finn as he plays on his car mat or show off his new dance moves and drum skills.  I wouldn't get to run bases with him at the ball field or hold his hand while we ride the double slide together at the park.  I wouldn't get to be there to enjoy his happy hot tub song or see a harvest moon and stars through his eyes.  The greatest moment of my day can be kissing him goodnight on his precious forehead and exchanging ideas about what we should dream of that night.

Yeah. It's worth it.  So we're trying for a second one, even after the heartache of a loss early this year of a 4.5 month pregnancy.  It didn't kill us, so are we stronger?  No, I don't think so.  But we'll try, try again and hopefully Ender will have a new brother or sister one day.

And then, after all my talk of 3 year olds being so much harder to parent, you'll see a post from me complaining that I have a baby who won't let me shower regularly.

*an exaggeration. It was only 60 lbs and it's gone now.  Thanks kale juice!