One year ago I was fat and miserable.
I was tired and swollen.
I was afraid, anxious, overwhelmed and excited.
I was pregnant. Bleh.
I don't know that I've ever told you this before but I hate pregnancy. I hate it with a deep passion. I'm not sure how I've managed to get through four of them. Four. Ugh. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. I've tried embracing pregnancy - doesn't work. I've tried enjoying pregnancy - really doesn't work. For me it always comes down to- take it for what it is and get through it. Yes, you are fat, forgetful, and miserable. Deal with it. There's nothing you can do about it.
That being said, I do love children. My children. I love my children. (Let's not get carried away.) I love them from the moment I find out I'm having them until, well, present tense. They somehow find a way to be innately worth all the pains and troubles that come with pregnancy. Not enough to make me forget, but apparently enough that I've done it several times.
This fourth pregnancy was the pregnancy to end all pregnancies. It was a roller coaster ride physically and mentally the likes of which I've never experienced. From legs constantly falling asleep to irregular heart palpitations to high blood pressure to extreme amounts of amniotic fluid - to not knowing if they were going to induce me each week to twice weekly stress tests to weekly ultrasounds. You get the picture. I won't bore you with all the details that no one else really cares about, but that I would love to share for your pity. I was done. I'm not sure how many times I said that during those 9 months but I'm pretty sure it came close to 1,000,002.
And now it's done. It's been over for 364 days. Tomorrow marks 365.
One entire year.
And I am SO glad.
Right here is where I would love to say that I was glad because he was here and some of the unknowns were now answered and he was semi-okay. And that was a big part of it. But mostly, I was just reeeaaally happy to not have a baby in my body anymore.
And now he's one. Ridiculous.
He's even started in the past two days acting older. I'm not doing the whole 'mommy-parting-with-baby-stage-sad-her-baby-is-growing-up' thing here. I'm serious. You saw the picture from the last post. Hello... how do you go from not doing that to suddenly doing that? He's seriously entertaining himself. He actually reached out to grab something with two hands because he couldn't get it with just one. He's never done that before. He's becoming a little man. A short still unstable big headed little man. With curly hair. Who is this kid?
He's Rambo. And he's mine. :) And yes, I still say that despite hating pregnancy to the utter most parts of the earth and despite everything we've been through with him - he is worth it. :)