It’s no secret that music fuels my soul and my life. I love so many forms of it and prefer to be surrounded by it all the time. Lately, though, a particular line from a Regina Spektor song keeps running through my brain:
I keep humming this, not because I’m running around sweating profusely these days (although I do get short winded a LOT and awfully fast), but because when I think about what my body is sustaining right now, I am in flat out awe of Mother Nature and the abilities of the female form.
I realize, with our second and third babies being less than two years apart, some people are going to ask, “Did you guys mean to do that? Were you trying to get pregnant?” I don’t know why people feel the need to ask others this question, but it must come from the same place that makes everybody and their crazy uncle think it is OK to 1) comment on a pregnant woman’s size and 2) tell a pregnant woman horror stories from their own, or someone they know who knew someone who had, horrific pregnancy experiences. Seriously. Why does the world work like that? But, since it does, I feel like a few people are going to look at me and my growing bump and start to think “Dang, Baby Factory. Slow down.”
But here’s the thing. We are elated. And it doesn’t matter what other people think or sometimes have the gall to say. My reacting to it here is a premptive move, I guess; a steeling of myself against the world. I recognize that comments might come. People may question and wonder what we are doing, but we are building the life we have always wanted, even if it is currently coming at us in rapid motion. Obviously we know where babies come from, so it’s not a huge surprise to us that I am pregnant.
Except that IS a huge surprise because last time, when trying to get pregnant for the second time, it took so much longer than anticipated and I thought that nursing was holding me back. It wasn’t until several months after being done completely with HD that we were able to get pregnant again. This time, like before, my cycle had returned, so we knew there was a possibility of pregnancy, but based on previous experience, we thought that we wouldn’t really be in business until I finished nursing Raegan. And, based on how she eats, we thought that might be quite some time from now. But, it’s funny how life works, and apparently Mother Nature decided that I was ready and able to take care of not just myself and my Raegge, but a whole new baby, too. Holy Moly Cow.
All of this takes me back to my dear Regina and her infectious lyrics. I’ve had a lot of ups and downs in terms of acceptance of my body in my lifetime, and sometimes I forget just how freaking amazing I am. But right now there is no denying how blown away I am by the idea that I can sustain three of us simultaneously. I apologize if that sounds like gloating or bragging; I am not saying my body is any better than that of anyone else. Not at all. I’m just marveling at the fact that this feat is even possible, much less something I am actually experiencing. Just two years ago, when we were trying, trying, trying to get pregnant for the second time, I wasn’t even sure my back would allow me to carry another pregnancy (much less the four I’d ultimately like to have). But with time, care, and one amazing chiropractor, I am feeling great in that department, which is such a wonderful blessing.
Now, about the tandem nursing…can’t say it is my favorite thing ever, especially as my morning/day/night sickness continues to increase, but for now, we’re hanging in there. Because Raegan’s only nursing three times a day, I’m going to keep with her for as long as I can because I figure she’s really not asking too much of me. In a few weeks or months? Hard to say. I can’t say I see us getting to 16 months like I did with Harrison, but I guess you never know. I also thought I would never be in the position to make such a decision, but here I am, singing praises for my “perfect” body.
And what this body is telling me, these days, is that I need to slow the flip diddle down. This week I went from being queasy to full-on sick which was not a fun transition. But what I’ve noticed is that I feel the worst the day after I try to do too much. Last weekend, after we got back from Thanksgiving travel, I was worthless. Friday, after two very long days and late nights on Wednesday and Thursday, I was so sick that I was out of commission as a human being, much less a parent. Except I was here by myself, trying to take care of my other two babies, so out of commission wasn’t really an option. I will say, though, that I did as much couch time as I could and prayed that the day would go swiftly so I would make it until Ben got home, which I did. Barely.
This weekend, I am feeling a little better. But I’m learning pretty quickly that I’m going to have to let some things go. I can’t go and do everything I want to right now because I need to slow down. I need to sit. I need to respect everything my body is doing, for the messages it is sending are so very important. Perfect, even.