My Thoughts (and Tears) On This Last Pregnancy

5 years ago, I was writing about being the crazy lady who cried (like a lot) during our birthing classes at Sparrow.  I was also the strange women who wiped tears walking through the baby section of Target trying to do our baby registry and had to go home.  I was carrying twins, wonderful, amazing, miracle twins after suffering years of infertility and two miscarriages.  Not that this is a surprise to anyone reading this, but even though pregnancy is a beautiful experience, it is not the easiest ten months for me and my crippling fear.

If I even go back farther, 6 years ago, I was writing, right around this time of year, about being told our second pregnancy would not make it- writing about having to have two surgeries to clean out my body since it did not take care of things naturally, feeling so helpless, yet again, as we were starting over.  Lots of tears there too, certainly.

Going back even one year farther, (7 years ago) I was blogging about Josh writing me the most beautiful mother’s day card trying to spill all of his hope onto me as I was, yet again, numb and depressed on mother’s day.  You can imagine the tears there.

Through all of my ups and downs with fertility, pregnancy, and eventual motherhood, there have been a lot of tears shed by me, especially at this time of year honestly.  A lot of sad ones, a lot of happy ones… a lot of scared ones, and a crapload of grateful ones.

This year is no different…

A few days ago, I had my last prenatal appointment… ever. 

E v e r .

I’m just kinda letting that word hang there… it’s so strange.

My doctor reminded me this was the last appointment before my C-Section and called it my last prenatal appointment, but then it hit me and I corrected him that it was my last parental appointment ever. After this baby comes out, I am getting my tubes removed (more on that decision later).  My pregnancy journey will be O-V-E-R. 

When I walked out of the doctor’s office and got in my car, the tears came.  This time, I couldn’t even label what emotion they were from.  The tears were for everything: everything I had been through, how far we've come, out of excitement, fear, shock, acceptance, joy, the past, the future, and the over-whelming feeling of arriving at exactly where I'd always hoped and prayed I would arrive- I am a mom of children.  

All throughout my infertility struggles, I remember just praying and asking to be given the same shot everyone else got.  That’s all I wanted.  That 20% shot to get pregnant during each cycle.  I just wanted to be “normal” (whatever that is).  I wanted the chance to make whatever kind of family I wanted to make without having so many obstacles stand in my way.  Here I am, on baby number 4, CHOOSING to not have any more kids.  I honestly can’t believe it.  

I am ending my pregnancy journey on MY terms, which is what I always wished for.  I am not carrying any more children because I can’t or because a doctor says it’s impossible, or because my body is incapable.  I’m ending my pregnancy journey because Josh and I decided that… together… as a couple.  I have been able to take control of that part of my story, which, from where I began, is truly miraculous.  Having control over ANYTHING pregnancy or child-bearing related, for me, is miraculous honestly.  

I strive to be one of the most grateful moms you'll ever meet.  How can I NOT be?  Any struggles I had to get here are always so fresh- I remember them vividly and they still make me so emotional.  Infertility awareness week was last week and I cried multiple times reading articles and posts on the subject.  I do not forget for a minute what Josh and I went through to arrive where we are today.

That doesn't mean I don't "Purple Crayon."  That doesn't mean I haven't freaked out at the thought of having twins when Nolan and Judah came or three kids when Carter came or holy crap four kids when #HundtBaby4 arrives.  That doesn't mean I don't have bad days, moments where I'm at my wits end, and some pretty epic mom fails.  But being a mother was something, for a long time, I never thought I'd achieve, a goal I might not reach.  This perspective coupled with my vivid memory, gets me through when things are rough.  

That chapter in my life is coming to a close- on my terms.

I will never again experience the crippling fear as I rush to the bathroom a million times a day to make sure I'm not bleeding.

I will never again lose sleep because it's been too long since I've had a doctor's appointment and I'm worried something is wrong with the baby inside of me.

I will never again stick myself with needles pushing all kinds of potions into my body in hopes it does what it's supposed to do to ovulate to give me a chance at birthing a baby.  

I will never again chicken out about telling people I'm pregnant because I can barely say the words out loud without thinking I'm jinxing the pregnancy.

... However...
I will never again feel the flutters inside reassuring me that someone is in there and someone is moving.

I will never again feel kicks outside my body during my day.

I will never again rip a hole in my maternity tank top because my belly has gotten so big.

I will never again take weekly pictures of my growing belly.

I will never again sing to my belly, read stories to my belly, pray over my belly, or have my children talk to their future brother or sister over my belly.

I will never again hear a heartbeat that's not my own on a Doppler or see an ultrasound profile picture of the cutest future baby/babies ever. 

I know I'm going to have all kinds of never agains, too, once this baby comes out and it's my last one.  I won't even go there- I'm emotional enough right now as it is ;)