The Choice of Two

I was never sure if I would be a Mother or not. It wasn't something I was against, but neither did I feel like my life would be missing something if I didn't have any children. One thing I was sure of was that if I had one I would have at least a second one if I could. I have three sisters, and I think siblings are important. It's especially something I realize as an adult watching my husband (he's only has one half brother who is severely mentally disabled) deal with the realities of having an ageing father all on his own. When the time comes to take care of our parents, my sisters and I will have each other. I decided that two was enough. After the birth of my son I had my tubes tied. I'm surprised at how surprised other people are about this. I'm mean, have you seen how much kids cost these days? My mom, who is one of seven, was especially disappointed. My other reason for making this choice was the undeniable fact that I don't do pregnant well. My younger sister and I had are kids pretty close together. Her daughter is three months older than mine, and her son is six months older than mine. It would be great if they didn't live twelve hours away. When we were pregnant together the first time, I hated her. This is not an overstatement. She was one of those chipper pregnant women that make the rest of us look bad...like being fat and sick doesn't do enough of that already. She only gained weight in her stomach, getting that cute bump. She wore her regular clothes until she was like eight months. I got pregnant all over. I didn't swell
alot, but simple got wide. Everywhere. My butt, my feet, my face even seemed to get wider. She was never sick. I never stopped being sick. I remember one particularly pleasant day while she was cheerfully telling me about her recent cravings for McDonald's french fries, I was pulled over in a McDonald's parking lot right across from the drive thru speaker throwing up. People in line got to order their lunch to the sounds of me losing mine. She went into labor all on her own and had a fairly quick first time birth - I think it was only like six hours - and she pushed out her baby medication free. At 37 weeks I had to be induced for pre-eclampsia, and after twelve hours of labor that went no-where they told me my daughter's head was swelling and rushed me off to an emergency c-section. They cut me open and the doctor said "would you look at that!" Not her head. Her butt. She was breech and they didn't know. Her but was stuck in the birth canal. So I was secretly thrilled when with her second she had a bad case of morning sickness. Okay not so secretly. I gloated a little. Alot. I was mean to her, but karma really is a bitch because minutes after I saw two lines on the sick I threw up and didn't stop until after he was born. Her second pregnancy went by, with her getting over her sickness by the fourth month. When her time came she literally went to the hospital crowning. At nine weeks I had a tear in the placenta that caused heavy bleeding and I was put on bed rest. At 37 weeks, on a Tuesday, I started having frequent painful contractions. I went to the hospital and I was dilated 4cm. Twelve hours later they sent me home because my contractions were no longer regular and I wasn't dilating. This went on for DAYS. I would have a burst of regular contractions that lasted for hours, then they would subside. Then on Friday in the middle of the night my mucus plug came out and I began having really intense contractions. An hour later the pain was so intense I couldn't sit down. I get to the hospital, just sure I was about to have this baby (I was going for a VBAC), they get me in the triage/observation room (which is the size of a closet), and tell me I'm only 4.5cm dilated. What's more is that since I'm still in my 37th weeks, they cannot do anything to further my labor. They can't give me PIT or break my water. Even better is that they did a quick ultrasound to make sure this one wasn't breech and they discovered that while he was head down, he was face up, and I was experiencing what's called "back labor"...they should find a way to simulate this and use is to torture terrorists. They couldn't give me and epidural either, because I wasn't officially admitted. I was still in "observation." I stayed in that closet in the worst pain of my life - they gave me morphine, which I would equate to taking aspirin after getting hit by a car - for six hours. They checked me ever thirty minutes and I stayed 4.5cm dilated for 5.5 hours. In the last half hour I dilated from 4.5 to 7cm. I got a room, and then shortly after the epidural. They took the needle out of my back, laid me down, and my blood pressure bottomed out and my heart started racing. It took them twenty minutes to get me stable. An hour later my son was born via a successful VBAC.

      So it was an easy decision for me to stop at two. My sister says she's not having anymore either, but I don't believe her. She didn't have her tubes tied, and she likes being pregnant.