I hated being pregnant with a fiery, burning passion, and I was oh so adamantly ‘one and done’ the whole time. In reality, I had a super smooth pregnancy and delivery. No issues at all until 37 weeks when I started showing signs of preeclampsia, I was induced and was able to deliver without a c-section. Then the horribleawfulamazinglywonderful newborn phase took me to a level of exhaustion and nipple pain that I didn’t even know existed. I’m pretty sure I almost died.
But now…now I have quite a few friends who are pregnant or have newborns, and it’s making me long for those days again.
I miss this:
Then again, right now Ali is upstairs taking a nap and I’m pretty much guaranteed 2-3 hours of glorious alone time. The house is clean, I got to take a luxurious shower and even take the time to shave, and I can screw around on the internet to my heart’s content.
Ahh, this is super nice:
So all in all, I know we will have another, hopefully in the next couple years. I’ll just have to snatch one of those itty bitty babies to love on until then, and revel in my personal space and relative freedom that my big girl allows me.