When I gave birth to my children, I was determined to bring them onto this planet undrugged....all except one. I wasn't prepared for that one, and I learned my lesson well.
I prepared for the other four.
My body was created to have babies, one doctor told me.
And I guess I took him seriously because I had at least six pregnancies. Most made it despite my body eating whatever it wanted when it wanted, and doing what it wanted when it wanted.
The idea of conceiving, carrying and birthing babies ran the gamut in my mind. I hated it and I loved it. I'll skip the conceiving part. Most of the time I didn't like that idea since I only wanted two children.
Carrying the baby for nine months was a pain in more ways than one. First of all, I usually hid my pregnancy for as long as I could. I didn't like the jokes that came with the condition, comments like, "You mean you haven't learned yet how you get that way?"
I didn't like the morning sickness, since with me it was morning, afternoon and evening sickness. Finally just when I finally got used to the idea of carrying another life, it was time to deliver, and I wasn't crazy about commencing that part either. Laboring was hard ...uh, labor, and sometimes it hurt.
I also had a husband who envisioned himself as creator and coach. I didn't like sports, and I disliked coaches even more. Sometimes during labor, I just wanted to take a timeout and put him on the bench for awhile.
I think I would have loved having a doula there beside me to massage me during the labor, to speak softly and tenderly and not leading a cheer or planning the next play.
All this said, eventually the baby slid through into the world. He or She was put on my chest, and I fell in love all over again. I was the proud mom. I could feel my breast swell up and literally reach for the baby. I would see small weak eyes look into mine and I was hooked once more for another 20 years at least.
Mommyhood: A quandary for this mom. It became the best part of my life, but while I went through it day in and day out, one would have never guessed that. Isn't it funny how our memories blanket everything in rosy hues while the present paints life in grays and blacks?
Or am I the only screwball mom out there? God only knows!