Friday, May 30, 2008


Do you know that right now I have two baby announcements sitting in my in-box? One was born yesterday and the other one will arrive some time today. Both of the e-mails had pictures, which I love, but it also strikes a little cord with me.
All of those "first" pictures show the women in their hospital beds with their babies. You see dads standing nearby and maybe even machines or medical equipment. There's talk of labor and pushing and epidurals.

I can't help but wonder if I'm a just a little damaged because I can't make myself view these moments as happy times. Yes, babies are a good thing--I'm not talking about that. It's just that for me, the birth process was extremely traumatic. There was no happy running to the hospital, no eager anticipation. Instead we had fear. I actually cried right after I delivered Charlie and they weren't tears of joy. They didn't even let me see him--I got a glimpse of a blue-ish foot before they whisked him away. Later, I had my husband go take a picture of him at Children's Hospital so I could see what he looked like.

So, I want to be happy for people, and I am happy for them. I just can't help feeling a rock in my stomach as the big day looms near.

I plan on having at least one more child (maybe two), so I don't know what this means for me. Will I spend my next pregnancy on pins and needles? Will I be able to enjoy it, or will it be nine months of stress? My husband has suggested that maybe it can be a time of healing for the both of us. I sure hope so.

Here's a picture of me at the end of my pregnancy.