Earlier this month I made my yearly visit to my OBGYN. Fun stuff let me tell you. The visit resulted in an appointment for a pelvic ultra sound. More fun stuff, to rule out even more fun stuff. Sparing the gory details, let me outline the actual fun stuff. The preggo ladies. Big Bellies about to pop, little bellies excited as could be, and me with my very happy and very empty belly. It did however make me nostalgic for the days when ultra sounds were surrounded with glee and delight, as a chance to see your little one up close an person even if they looked like a pea, an acorn, or a peanut.
Let's just say, I was not nostalgic for pregnancy. I did not feel the need to be pregnant again. Even when the receptionist asked how far along I was, I did not feel my heart drop as I said I wasn't pregnant. That my friends is a sure sign that this uterus is in line for serious retirement. If being surrounded by happy and healthy pregnant moms doesn't make you sad your are not currently gestating, then nothing will.
That brings me to my follow up appointment with the man I love almost more than my Husband... My OBGYN. I'm dead serious when I say this man, this DOCTOR, does whatever I ask. Please make me stop puking, done. Please don't make me go back to work, done. Please give me all the drugs humanly possible, done. Promise me if the baby doesn't come out in 12 hours or less, cut it out, done. Ok I didn't have to have a C-section, but I'm pretty sure if I had asked he would have said, my pleasure. I seriously love this doctor. So when I get to see him when I'm not pregnant it's like a family reunion.
We talked about my ultrasound and my clean bill of health for my abdomen. No fibroid, masses, scar tissue. YEAH ME! We talked about my health over the last year, some of the complications I was experiencing, and then we talked shop.
Tubal Ligation. Or as I refer to it, reproductive retirement. Is this a good idea for me? What are the complications? What's the recovery time? Then he asked the question that my husband has been asking for months... So you don't want any more children?
What? Ugh! What kind of horrible person says no to a baby? Yeah it's a common question. People even ask before you leave the hospital. So mom when are you gonna start on another one? Then as my girls get older people start asking my personal favorite: When are you going to try for THAT boy?
UGH! I hate that question. Really? You think my family is incomplete because my children lack a penis and can't pee standing up? I'm sure I sound like the feminist I once was (still am?), but seriously?
I'll admit that I twice dreamed in blue. During the early months of both pregnancies. I dreamed about my son, the quarterback, bringing home the BCS Championship, the first in Bulldog history, while me and John sat in the stands. The cameras would broadcast our tears as we watched our BOY bring home the glory. They would tell the back story of our journey to the game, which included the part about how Mr. QB's dad, lives and breathes Fresno State. I dreamed about football pads, baseball bats, and skateboards. Dump trucks and dirt bikes. Yes, I dreamed in blue. Both times.
What I got, both times were blessings swaddled in pink. Tutus and sequins, sugar and spice, Barbie dolls and paper dolls. I have never regretted one minute. Never felt a void. Who better to share a love of Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, and Hello Kitty? I'm looking forward to dance recitals, softball championships (yes, the Lady Bulldogs), and Sorority Rush (hello legacies). So now I dream in color. Nothing is missing.
So, I'm done. I'm a mom. Of two happy and healthy girls that make my world go round. I don't need a penis on one of them to validate me as a mother. Does it make me selfish and cold? Maybe. Who doesn't want more cuddly babies? Cute booties and tiny onesies. Babies are the perfect example of love and life. So who can say no to a baby?
ME! Because I can say no to PREGNANCY. I don't want to have another baby, because I DON'T WANT TO BE PREGNANT EVER AGAIN. For me pregnancy is not cute. It's me in sweats, gagging, popping zofran and colace, sipping coca-cola, crying and depressed, while everyone around me takes care of my children while they constantly cry for their mommy. And it's not just for a couple of weeks. It's for the first four months. With Mac it was the first five. Why in the world would I want to be miserable and sick and awful to be around again? If someone could promise me that this would not happen then sure I'd try it again. But there are no promises with pregnancy. So trying again doesn't guarantee you a boy. It only guarantees you a baby. It will surely guarantee me sickness.
Here my friends is the great debate, which has lead me to the greatest guilt trip to date. How do I outright refuse to give my husband his greatest desire? An male heir? Did I seriously just type that? Is this royal England? Seriously though, how do I deny his dreams in blue? Is that even fair? And how do we come out on the other side of this? Because as we stand, I'm not changing my mind, and he is not changing his.
So I'm bring this to you my friends and readers. Do I roll the dice, play Russian roulette, and hope that I not only survive a pregnancy, but that the end result has a penis? And what do we do if we have another girl? Do we keep trying? If I say no, outright refuse, then is this a situation of my body my choice? Am I just being ridiculous and selfish? Or am I being realistic?
Once I dreamed in blue...
Happy Blogging,
Megan
