Less judgement, more understanding please.)Īfter the initial shock settled and I felt at peace with this tiny seed that is growing inside me, I promised myself I was going to do this pregnancy differently. Not every pregnancy is planned and another child can be a source of stress and worry for many financially responsible and burnt out mothers. I completely empathize and understand…but I wish our society will also respect a woman’s choice to have as many or little children as she wants. (I’ve heard comments from mothers who believe every mother should be happy with every child she conceives, especially because there are so many women who are unable to conceive nowadays. If you’re interested, you can read about it here. I thought I had reached my maternal limit with two children and was perfectly content with that realization.īut I guess there was another baby written in the stars for me, because I found out I was pregnant a third time on a cold day of last November, a few days before Thanksgiving. There are women out there who love being pregnant, but I certainly wasn’t one of them. Sure there are many amazing mothers of three out there, but I wasn’t one of them. I already knew what kind of sacrifices, hard work and dedication it took to raise a single child and I wasn’t convinced that I have it in me to do it again. Yet I never thought about becoming a mother a third time. Well, I did think about it here and there, but always kept arriving at the same conclusion which was a no. I learned to let go of control around the home and with my husband’s sometimes different parenting style. I learned to smile through the spaghetti on the walls, the crushed cheerios at the bottom of my diaper bag. I overcame postpartum depression that necessitated anti-depressants for the first and last time of my life, and learned to count daily blessings in middle of teething fevers, night terrors and uncontrollable tantrums. I finally learned the value of new life, the importance of compromise in parenting and the countless joys children bring to our adult lives. I overcame a bout of postpartum depression that necessitated anti-depressants for the first and last time of my life, and learned to count daily blessings in middle of teething fevers, night terrors and uncontrollable tantrums. My children became my #1 priority and I actually became glad that I got to stay home in their early years when before, I couldn’t wait to return to work. I was expecting a fairytale, but was given a reality check instead, a MAJOR reality check that included a series of difficult sacrifices, loss of ambition, postpartum depression, and many occasions to fall and get back up with a newfound title as a mother.Įventually the roughest years passed and I settled into my new life as a full-time mother. Just like this, two pregnancies passed by at ages 24 and 26 without being given the proper attention, love and care that they should’ve received. In a lot of ways I was young, unprepared and overwhelmed with all that marriage and motherhood entails. So instead of celebrating my changing body like I should, I hid away in my safe corner, ate a lot of junk food & a pint of ice cream (Haagen Dazs coffee ice cream to be exact) every night and refused all opportunities to take photos. Now I miss the days of having my pregnant belly. I didn’t know many pregnant women at the time and most of my close friends still lived a fit, active, vibrant and carefree lifestyle while I watched my body go through changes I never thought was possible. I felt too big, too clumsy, too uncomfortable and unattractive in my growing body. I’ve never taken maternity photographs before because I didn’t realize in my 20’s how beautiful a woman’s pregnant body is.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |