Silly Complex's

Motherhood brings on a lot of unexpected things. I think some of the most unexpected things for me are those silly little thoughts and complex's. What's most interesting is, when faced with certain situations, you feel things that you never dreamed you would. For example when we were faced with unemployment a couple Christmas' ago, and needed insurance because of our upcoming bundle of joy, we talked about my husband enlisting in the army. I, of course, felt the expected things like nerves, being anxious and wondering if I could handle being an Army Wife. But, along with that, came a feeling that people might think I was selfish to risk my husbands life just so we could have money and benefits. I don't know why I felt that way. I certainly don't think that of any woman I know who's husband has joined the army. I mostly just admire them and their strength. But still I felt it, and I never expected it.

I can't say I ever expected wanting to be pregnant-- and I mean ever. Nor did I expect wanting another baby so soon after having twins. But here I am with three kids, 18 months apart. It's not something I would recommend, but I have to say I personally like it.

Now that I have been pregnant it's hard to go back to those days of simply having a monthly cycle. Now so many mixed emotions have to come with my monthly gift. Even now, when I may be on my way to thinking of another baby but certainly not ready for another pregnancy, I find every month I'm anxious to know if that lovely thing will show it's face. It doesn't help that the symptoms are the same. I get moody, thirsty, my chest swells a little, tired, etc. These signs show their face and I start calculating when my last period was. I'm usually a week away. Then the tension starts.

"Is it going to come? Do I want it to come? Will I be happy or sad if it comes?" These are the questions I always ask myself.

Usually it's right on time. I can handle that. I know it isn't our time to be pregnant and I'm OK with that. But then there are the months that it's a little late.

"Just take a test," my husband says.

I hate taking the tests. I don't like to take them unless I'm 95% sure they will say yes. I don't know why. I'm really not ready for another pregnancy. But even so, it's the same now as it was right after I had the last one, I don't like to see the negative result on that test.

This happened this month. I finally decided to take the test. I was pretty late. Seconds after the test read negative my monthly gift showed up. I mean really. Does taking the test somehow trigger it? Not only did I waste the money, but I wasted emotional stress.

Sometimes I wonder if I feel this way because my moodiness and tiredness being linked to bringing another miracle in this world would at least bring about a greater sense of worth.

It's bad enough that each month I have to face the fact that my emotional outbursts have no merit, but I've also been struggling with being a little backed up lately and this brings on another whole set of fun complex's. Realization of this problem came about when it got so severe one morning I visited the emergency room. Ever since I've really had to watch my diet and try to take in a lot of fiber. The problem is no fun, and one of the most embarrassing things I've had to deal with yet. But that's not the worst part. Along with it comes nausea, aches in my hips and back, hot flashes and movements in my tummy. This makes the problem itself much more difficult to face. Feeling pregnant is so much easier to handle when it's about bringing a child into the world-- not about being unable to go to the bathroom.

Another complex I'm facing lately might seem a little strange to some. I have three beautiful boys. And I mean beautiful. I know this sounds like bragging but my motherly adoration's have been confirmed on several occasions. My OB commented on the twins all the time. He even said they could date his daughter. All of my boys have been mistaken for girls on several occasions. And I get told a lot that they should be in a magazine.

My youngest one in particular is one of the most beautiful babies you've ever seen. I used to look at him when he was a newborn and just think, "You are so nice to look at. I could just look at you for hours."

He has fair skin, blue eyes and blonde hair. He gets mistaken for a girl even more than his brothers did. The problem with this is that he was supposed to be my girl. When I got pregnant with him I just knew I was going to have a girl. OK maybe I didn't know it would be a girl, but another boy just didn't sound right. When I found out he was a boy my heart dropped. Not simply because he was a boy, but because I felt I had lost my girl. When we finally met him last September I just looked at him and thought, "I'm glad you're here. And I'm glad you're not a girl, but it was just so hard to get you here. Couldn't you have brought a sister with you?"



I don't spend my days wishing he was a girl. There were very colicky times when I may have wished I hadn't had that crazy idea to get pregnant. But I honestly don't wish him to be a girl. But still when he's mistaken for one my heart sinks a little. Here these people think I have two boys and a girl when really I don't know what it's like to have a girl at all. To them I do, but I know I don't.

Sometimes I look at him and say, "You're just too pretty to be a boy."

I get a little sad again. Sometimes I find it hard to look at him. I know that sounds crazy but it's true. I guess it just reminds me that, pretty as he is, I still don't have a daughter and I may never have one.

We've had a rocky road this baby and I. When we first met I wasn't sure if he wanted to be a part of our family. We struggled through the first 3 months. Both hoping things would get better. I let his Dad take on a lot because I just didn't have the patience I needed for him. He wanted constant attention. He always wanted to be held, couldn't be left in a room alone and just seemed really needy compared to his brothers. I'm just not that type of mother. I like kids that can entertain themselves. That can be content while I get a little work done. I play with my kids, but we can all enjoy it more if I'm not thinking about all the stuff I need to get done. When we came out of the colicky and indigestion haze I found I had a son who was completely enthralled with his mother. How this happened? I do not know. But I'm glad because it helps me feel that I wasn't so terrible to him. Maybe there were moments of love and happiness. He some how came to feel safe and content with me amid all the screaming and crying. And that brings a little comfort to me.

I love all my boys. Most days I'm perfectly happy raising three gentlemen. Even if sometimes my silly little complex's say otherwise. I can't ignore them. It's probably not a good idea to smother them. I guess all I can do is just acknowledge them and try to figure out how I really feel.