Monday I went to the OB for my annual exam. I’m not telling you this so you can envision stirrups and paper gowns and whatnot. That’d just be creepy.
I’m mentioning this for a more relevant reason.
Because this could very well be the last schmear of my pap before we take the plunge for baby #2. And that realization scared the shit out of us.
In our five-year plan, Matt and I had always talked about two kids. Someone to grow up with. Someone to vent to when Mom was “being so unfair!” Someone to help share the burden of someday…
But that plan was shaken to the core when 8 weeks pregnant with Allison, The Crohn’s attacked.
And complications and hospitalizations and surgical consults ruined my vision of the beauty of creating life.
More than once, I cursed the pregnancy that made me so sick I couldn’t get any relief from the pain. More than once, I regretted the decision to have a baby. More than once, I just wanted it to be over.
Yet here I am, 3 years later, considering doing it again.
Despite the good odds that I’ll have another Crohn’s flare. That I’ll have another premature baby. That I’ll need another surgery.
Because she was worth all of it. And just maybe, knowing what I know now, things will be different.