The word.  PREGNANT.  PREGNANT.  The docs and nurses…so when will you try to get PREGNANT.  It’s so exciting you want to get PREGNANT.  You’ll be sure to be PREGNANT so soon.  Good luck getting PREGNANT.  Did they have to say it so loud?  Like on a megaphone.  Over a loud speaker.  As if they took lessons from Don King when he gets to preachin’.  This word.  The ‘p’ one.  The fact that I just can’t say it out loud.  And when they do, it’s. really. really. loud.  Is this a bad sign?  About my state of mind?

Day 1 - Free the Uterus 

After 5 years of being convinced that our third child was our last, I had my Mirena IUD removed today.  In some serious bout of lingering insanity, we’re going to try for number 4.  Our first 3 came in just under 5 years.  All c-sections.  All sick/lethagic pregnancies.  All nursed for more than a year, and at 30, when number 3 came, that. was. it.  Over.  Close up shop.  I was waaay to old and tired to ever consider that nuttiness again.  Ha.

Here I am, with a pocketbook full of prenatal vitamin samples, a crampy uterus, and a bad case of the nerves.  And I’m calculating due dates, and Down’s stats, and Placenta Previa cases, and the latest greatest drugs for nausea.  I must be mad.  I am mad.  The three we have have sucked the last of my reasoning ability right out of my brain.  Whatever remained after the placentas, full of my brain cells, were removed most assuredly escaped through my nipples as I nursed.  And nursed.  And nursed.  

What am I thinking?  What. am. I. thinking.  I’m thinking about tiny feet, and flutters in my belly.  A downy, sweet smelling head at my breast.  Bobux booties. The bliss of a baby reaching for me.  Bouncing up and down in a crib before she can even walk.  Toddling after me.  Little dresses.  Recycling the pink cowboy boots our daughter wore when she was 3.  Super soft blankies.  Cloth diaper burp pads.  A house full of grown children and grandchildren one day.  Grown kids whose own children adore eachother…lots of cousins running in the back yard.  Just for typing this I’ll probaby have career driven materialistic self centered kids who would never slow down for marriage.  Much less a baby.  But I pray not.

And?  And.  Insanely sleepless nights.  Shredded nipples.  Days without bathing.  Puking every where I go.  That slug feeling.  Baby proofing.  The fact that we don’t own one single itty bitty baby item any more.  Not. one. booster. Or sippee cup.  We were sooo done.  And now, I fear we’ll be done in.  But that’s not stopping us.  I have totally lost my mind.