Fertility. An interesting dinnertime subject. Probably not overly appropriate in many situations.
My husband and I are lucky enough to be very fertile. Yes, I know, not something that you would shout from the rooftops. But it is our reality. Our three boys were conceived first go. Every. Time.
Great, how lucky! Yes. And No.
During my first pregnancy I suffered terribly with ‘morning sickness’. Except it didn’t just last the morning. I felt nauseus all day, everyday. For nine months and 10 days. Right until the end. I was in labour with Jamie, and was still vomiting in a bucket. Yuck!
Everyone kept saying it will stop at 12-weeks, then 22-weeks, then I’m pretty sure they all just thought I was being pathetic.
Ongoing, unrelentless nausea is debilitating. I have been sick in carparks, supermarkets, gardens, parks, at the beach, almost everywhere. It is embarrassing, and depressing. Very little joy can be had when you are constantly holding back vomit.
I class myself as a pretty level headed person, you would think a normal sane person would give herself a nice big break before she goes into another pregnancy after surviving nine months of hell. No, not me, less than a year later, we decided that we would ‘go again’. Have the kids nice and close so its all over and done with quickly. Great idea? No. Not even close. Very bad idea.
Now I was chasing after a one-year-old with my head over the sink, in the garden, crouched over the toilet. It was great fun!
So now I had survived two pregnancies, sick throughout both. I have two beautiful boys 19 months apart. Life is pretty busy, I am very tired, deep in the throes of parenthood.
I would swear loudly to my friends, "I am done, no more babies! Shutting up shop."
I diligently packed all the newborn clothes, blankets and paraphernalia into old nappy boxes Archie is around six months. I stacked them in our front hallway next to the door. I even had a friend to give them to - all I had to do was load them into the car and drive them on over.
One week, two weeks, a month later. They are still sitting there. About now I should declare that I am a little OCD, very tidy and clean. I diligently put everything away and keep a very neat and tidy house. So a big pile of boxes by my front door for a month is most definitely NOT normal.
I couldn’t do it. My gut was telling me that our little family was not complete. We were not done. Whether it was my instincts telling me to try for a girl, I cannot confirm or deny. I honestly don’t know. Realistically it probably was. I am one of four girls in my family, and I have one brother. A thorn amongst the roses! I always thought I would have a little girl.
I remember when I broached the subject with Steve. I can recall the place, and his reaction. It is imprinted in my brain. He was in the shower (can’t walk away when he’s having a shower!). He was gobsmacked. Speechless. But supportive. He had guessed something was up when I didn’t take the baby boxes promptly to their new home.
We are pragmatic people. We figured we had the first two children so close, it wouldn’t be right to have a bigger gap and then just one more baby. And four children always seemed like a really silly idea (coming from me, this is quite laughable). So when Archie was nearly one we tried again. Bullseye. Pregnant straight away (a gift or a curse?).
I knew I was pregnant, not from a test, but because I could no longer hold my breakfast down.
Wise, or stupid, people can judge. We had three boys in three years and three months. It nearly killed us. I wouldn’t change a thing, but I also would not recommend it!
The three boys play together constantly. Play dates, or providing entertainment have never been issues for me. They have their brothers. They move in a pack. They protect each other. They beat on each other. They tease each other. They punch each other. They hug each other. And now, at seven, eight and 10, I often find all three of them asleep in the same bed, or huddled under the blanket whispering in the early morning.
A gift or a curse?
Most definitely a gift.