Nine Months

Eva is nine months old already. It's amazing. When you're pregnant, nine months is an eternity. After she's born, it's barely a flash. I don't have to be reminded that in that space of time, we could have had another child, but people say it anyway. In fact, they started asking almost the moment we got back from the hospital. "When's the next one?" What, are they kidding? Must be because two of my friends from church are pregnant. One found out when her boy was only four months old. Yikes! The other, Rachel, is ecstatic to discover she's having a girl after two boys. It's perfect because her husband says three is enough.

Dave thinks two is enough, and he told my Mom that before Eva was even born. I always thought four, since I'm the oldest of four and I like large families. Dave is the youngest of five, but I guess the baby of the family has a different perspective. After I found out I was pregnant, I still wanted four, but toyed with the idea of adopting instead of carrying them all. Pregnancy is so darn uncomfortable. It’s completely worth it, but at the time it can be a real drag. Maybe we'll compromise at three. At any rate, I'm still not ready for the next one. It's not that labor is still fresh in my mind, though natural childbirth is no picnic. No, I actually dread the nausea more. I'd take 12 hours of labor over 3 months of heaving any day.

I knew women who would talk about how much they loved being pregnant, how they missed being pregnant, and all I could think was how crazy that sounded. Besides all the attention you get and those sweet little kicks (which sometimes are painful in their own right), there’s nothing I miss about being pregnant! I savor every moment I can sleep on my stomach and eat without worrying if it’s going to give me heartburn or come back up. Babies are so much more fun after they’re out!