This is my first entry in my blog, or any blog for that matter. The objective of this blog is to outblog my sister in law, Lorrie, which, it seems, could prove to be a little challenging. The subject of this blog is 'here we go again', which will detail my fifth (and final) pregnancy. I certainly never thought that I would ever utter the words 'fifth pregnancy' in reference to myself, but here I am. No, not pregnant, not yet, but planning on becoming pregnant. Hopefully within the next three months. The countdown is on.
My husband has finally relented and agreed that we could try again. One more time. So hopefully things will work out a little better this time around. It took a little convincing to get my husband to agree. I think he's scared about it, though he hasn't out and out said as much. Anyways, long story short, I cried and he caved. I worried for a moment afterwards that he might feel manipulated into having a baby that he doesn't truly want, but then the moment passed. I mean, if the kid turns out to be dysfunctional because of that I take no responsibility at all whatsoever. Surely any offspring of ours are bound to be dysfunctional regardless. The two that we have already have are strong evidence of that. It took us three hours last night to get our darling two year old to bed. It was an adventure to say the least, as is every night since she got her new Dora toddler bed. The whole time my husband was glaring at me, as if to say 'why? Why do you want to do this again?, they'll out number us if we have a third', which is true, I suppose.
The reason why I want to have a third child, in all actuality, eludes me. Children, they're expensive, they whine and cry on road trips, they'll get fries and ketchup all over the back seat of your new vehicle (if only a new vehicle could be afforded), my kitchen floors haven't been clean since 1997, no matter how many times I mop. But hey, they're cute and the clothes these days are adorable. We thought that we would be finished our family after our daughter was born. A boy and a girl. What more could we ask for? And then one night I experienced a dream in which I had another baby girl. She was so perfectly angelic, and in the dream I was just euphoric over her birth. When I woke up I felt this disapointment, this sense that I was missing out somehow. So then I started thinking about how great it would be to have two daughters. Two girls who could share a room, borrow clothes from each other, talk about boys when they got older. We could have shopping trips and manicures. They would be each others maid of honours in their weddings. Well, perhaps I was getting a little ahead of myself, but nonetheless, once the idea was planted it kept on growing and growing. So we decided to start trying again. We got pregnant easily, almost too easily it seemed. But sadly, the pregnancy came to an abrupt end when I was just sixteen weeks and six days pregnant (for details check out the posting 'Losing Reid', an afticle which I intend to submit to magazines for possible publication).
So now here I am. Not pregnant, but waiting to try again. I find myself not apprehensive about this pregnancy, but even more commited to having that 'dream baby'. Here we go again!