By age 30, I was pregnant with child number three (Harleigh) and making plans to leave the "real world" work force as a Financial Advisor (aka stock broker) for a global corporation and start midwifery school and bring my children into homeschool.
I wondered if I was having a mid life crisis. One that The Husband was 100% behind. He expressed no nervousness about supporting the family on his own while I tended to the kids and home. He was thrilled! In fact, the responsibility of supporting the family single-handedly totally empowered him and ushered us into a new phase of our partnership together.
This midlife crisis included joy and elation for my pregnancy and new baby tangled up with an internal struggle between career and wanting to be home for the first time. My earlier two pregnancies were plagued with worries about what my boss might think. What my assistant would think. What my parents were thinking. I suppose then for this pregnancy too, I was afraid to admit what everyone else seemed too eager to imply out loud: "How could I afford three kids in daycare and/or school schedules and still balance a career?" Wait, should I not be celebrating life like a normal prego lady? Why do I feel ashamed to be pregnant again?
I recall being in the corporate office for this third pregnancy. A male peer in the office had just announced his stay-at-home wife was expecting their first child. I recall our manager and others giving him slaps on the back of congratulations. I could see foaming at the mouth about how productive this father-to-be was probably going to become. Shortly thereafter I broke the news to the office that I was expecting. I could only hide my dashes into the ladies room to be sick and reduction in coffee for so long. Absent of slaps on the back, my news was met with sighs of sympathy and questions about my maternity leave plans (a good 6 or 7 months ahead) and I imagine side bets about whether I would return to work at all. This was not my first instance of professional difficulty as a pregnant working woman.
"Of COURSE I'll be returning to work! I mean, who is going to take care of my clients while I'm out? In fact, I think I can probably work a bit during those early weeks when I'm covered in spit up and blow outs, sleep deprived and wondering how I'm going to get in a shower that day." These are the lies I told myself. And the firm.
I started to have an awakening to my primal motherhood for the first time during this third pregnancy. I like to credit the work of my midwife, Melissa, for her diet zeal and emphasis on emotional health during pregnancy. She was a bit of a nutritional fanatic and by mid pregnancy I was wheat and dairy-free. I ate very little meat and felt and looked the best in my life. I had a new found clarity. I still managed to make a 10+ pound baby on my 5'3" frame. In fact, my midwife was so inspiring, I decided to apply to midwifery school. And quit my career. And bring my children home.
This decision turned out to be the most important of my life. It sounds like a crazy turn of events, but as I walked that path, it seemed as though the skids were already greased with copious amounts of pork lard. This was precisely where I was meant to be at that moment in space.
I never looked back. My life has been so rich and full at home with my children. Honestly though, it has been a financial BLOOD BATH. After I left work to attend school and to our three children, Husband, who appeared to be on a trajectory of nice growth in his career, had an immediate string of unfortunate events including a medical trauma leading to a very difficult financial period for us. We had just built a very large addition onto our smallish log cabin and had a subsequently large obligation to fulfill.
I was an only child. I had always wanted a large-ish family. Definitely more than two. Maybe more than three. I was unsure about any more than that. Do most couples articulate with each other how many kids they are going to have? We never really did. We never gave a number to our family. We would start discussing the concept of a third and soon after became pregnant. Then we started discussing and liking the idea of a fourth, and soon became pregnant.
Sometime in 2007, we created Huck (#4). Yes, his name is REALLY Huck. Huckleberry Bridger, actually. Huckie is what I affectionately call him. Huckster is what The Husband calls him.
In contrast to carrying Harleigh, this pregnancy was a bit less enjoyable. I had the same lovely midwife, but due to my busier life at home with three other kids, their school and mine, I just did not have time to savor the pregnancy. No time for exercise, I gained a few additional pounds than my nice 25-pounder pregnancies before. No time to prepare leaner meals for myself, I succumbed to nibbling on whatever I fixed for my kids on any given day. These additional ten extra pounds or so seemed to take up new residency on my new found slow-to-metabolize frame in my mid-30s. Not my favorite pregnancy.
Huck was born a "higher-maintenance" baby. Some of you may get this. Anyone who tells you there is no such thing is a stinky fibber. Like adults, some baby personalities are easier than others. Huck was the kind of infant that might have elicited an "I'm Done!" out of me a time or two. Only to be lost in amnesia soon after, if it even occurred.
Now that Huckie is four, this is the longest time period I have gone since knowing Cory without being preggers. I just told him that as I typed this and he grinned and said, "Really?!?" That's funny."
In our latter 30s, The Husband and I are just having those mindful conversations now regarding conscientious family planning. I suppose we've just remained flexible and open to our lives at any given time. Now my clock is ticking, "tick-tock", and I'm feeling the need to make some decisions and finally put to rest whether my family will expand further or not. I'd like to bring consciousness to our decision rather than not talking about it and assuming we both want the same thing. Because what if he thought, what I thought, six months ago changed, and what if what I thought what he thought has changed. And what if we both think we want the same thing, but are afraid the other person still wants that other thing and it never gets discussed. Wait. Who's on First? What's on Second?
The Husband is Bud Abbott. I'm clearly Lou Costello.
The Husband and I had a difficult year of marriage last year that almost ended tragically. We count our blessings as a family every day that we pulled it together. I am now a believer in miracles. But the memory of that dark time of separation and the scars it left both of us complicate the feelings associated with bringing a new life in.
I think I will grieve my pregnant self. I was fortunate that creating a baby was never a challenge for us as it is for others and I am mindful of that. My pregnancies were fairly easy and my births extraordinary. Yes, I will definitely miss the childbearing years of my life as I enter into this new phase of womanhood.
On the other hand, my life now is nice. My children are out of diapers that have been a constant in our home since 1999. We have changed diapers and helped smallish ones brush their teeth and fall asleep for over 12 years. I am now able to devote more time to my older children. I probably passed over them sometimes when pregnant or with a newborn. Now I feel more..."together". I dress nicer. I have more time to myself. I have time to fix my hair and makeup. Things I found difficult to carve time out for with tiny ones. I can work and earn more again now that my little man is four. I have a midwifery practice that I run out of my home. Life seems to be getting easier. We have discretionary income again for the first time in years. We just took a big family vacation that did not involve camping, tents, DEET or outdoor toilets. I am happy!
So I should "Be DONE", right? The Husband may be feeling done. We are both enjoying our new freedom from the little tethers accompanying pregnancy and nurselings. So why do I not feel, "Done"? Is there another soul that belongs to my stewardship here on Earth? Or is this a universally normal feeling for women who are physically equipped and young enough to continue to bear children. Perhaps it goes against natural instincts to feel "done". So why do so many women portray a clarity and knowing that their families are complete and they are ready to make the shift? Why don't I? Am I afraid to change?
The mancession (male-oriented recession) has also taken its toll on the providers of the home as I counsel pregnant women in my midwifery practice who struggle with husbands burdened in these days with providing and nervous about more mouths to feed, clothe and shelter. I wonder if this difficult economy is causing major shifts in families in the sense that mothers feel more alone in pregnancies while fathers are focused on work and providing. I seem to be seeing a bit of this as as midwife. It is amazing that the economy downturn has been so severe that it has altered the course of many souls coming into the world.
I find myself soaking up every single nano-second with baby Huck, who is actually four. We snuggle. I fawn over him. I giggle and play with him. I spoil him silly. I am already missing his baby self and having a baby or toddler to care for. This has been the longest period in 13 years that I have not carried or cared for a tiny baby. I miss it.
For now, my work is to honor my husband and our children's needs. Basque in my current state of peace and happiness and allow myself to grieve just a tiny bit for the loss of my prego belly, babies and small frys in my life. And embrace the silence that forces me to really deal with myself without an infant to distract me.
Ciao.
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