Pregnancy. Some people love it. Some people loathe it.
Some spend a lifetime and a fortune trying to become pregnant and yes, I suppose some wish they weren’t.
I have never taken pregnancy for granted. Having suffered from polycystic ovaries in my early 20s and having an operation to remove the cysts as well as “ovarian tissue” I doubted I would ever get pregnant.
Boo was a lovely surprise and I tentatively embraced the bump.
Even the day after I’d given birth to her however, I was broody again. We were getting married that year though so I held off and, basically, from the day we were married, I was trying to get a bump again.
The miscarriages prolonged my wait but, as you all know, baby Beb is proof that, just short of six weeks ago, I was sporting a rather large bump again.
You’d think after a far from tranquil birth, the last thing I would be think of is more babies but I am afraid I am.
The first time I spoke to one of my good friends after having Beb, I said ‘if I ever, ever, tell you I want another baby, either shoot me or remind me of this day.’
Needless to say, that feeling lasted a couple of days.
I just don’t know what it is.
Yes I love babies. I am finding it hard to accept that beautiful baby Beb will be my last newborn.
That milky smell. The warm, newborn skin. The way they rely on you for everything. Even the baby gros and their little feet, I can’t get enough.
I want to be a member of the pregnancy club again. That elusive club that so many people strive so hard to be members of.
When I am pregnant, I do tend to moan a bit. Who doesn’t?
I did moan more with Boo than Beb though as at that time, I didn’t realise how lucky I was to be pregnant.
I’ve got to say it though. I miss being pregnant. I miss going to Mothercare and staring wistfully at the little outfits and the maternity clothes.
I miss the attention you get from people who are genuinely interested in how you are and how long you’ve got left.
I miss the build up to the birth (am I mad?).
There are obviously things I don’t miss but, even in the midst of many, many, night feeds, the pros are outweighing the cons.
Could three be the magic number? I am yet to persuade Hubster but watch this space.