a tale of three pregnancies

i was married for the first time when i was 20, he was 29. the day i sent out the wedding invitations, i ate an entire carvel cake in the shape of a bunny. two weeks before the wedding, i cried to two girlfriends on three-way calling that it may be a big mistake. i was young and had yet to find my balls so i went on with the show, with the thought that i could get divorced. it's funny to think about now; i didn't even know the depth of his evil before we married. the day of the wedding, my best friend and soulmate (the one who is now about to give birth) cried the whole time; there was not a single smile in any photograph from her. we separated for the first time three months after the wedding, but got back together. at about the year mark, i fell pregnant. don't you love that term? OOPS...i've fallen pregnant! fuck me.

i was pretty screwed by my own father, so i knew very early on that my first responsibility as a mother was to give my child the best father i could, with the knowledge i had at the time. i mean, i'm no nostradamus, but it was pretty clear that bastard wasn't the one. three days after i learned of my *fall*, i was spread eagle in a clinic. yeah, people, you heard that right: the girl with IF, IUIs, IVF/ICSI, and a dead baby had an abortion. i never felt sad about it- not the day it happened, not months or years later, not during my years of infertility when i had no idea i'd ever be a mother, not even now that my baby is dead. i am nothing but proud that i was a good mother to that child.

fast forward through a divorce after two years of marriage, three years of dating husband, and one year of marriage. soulmate friend had her first baby- a girl. the day after husband held her for the first time, we decided we would start trying for a baby ourselves. my cycles were still off (as usual), but i'd been pregnant, and he'd had a girl *fall* pregnant (hehe- can't help it) as well (both pregnancies ended the same way). after a year, my gyn prescribed clomid. nothing. he referred us to an RE, who performed an IUI with clomid. nothing. i started getting freaked out about the possibility of IVF (i didn't want twins- HA!), so for the next year, i went au natural. acupuncture, herbs, tinctures, charting temps and cervical nectar, LH sticks, meditations, yoga for fertility, visualizations...for a year. and that resulted in, well, nothing. i relented at that point, and we went back to the RE for IVF. long story short, we had three embryos by transfer, transferred three, and had three babies at 32 weeks. one boy, two girls, 4lbs each. NICU for three weeks to learn to feed and grow. all in all, pretty uneventful, despite doctors at every turn warning us not to get too excited; we could end up with three babies, two babies, one baby, or none, give or take countless disabilities of prematurity. but alas, my charmed life proved true to form. three perfect babies.

too bad that's not the end of it. my life with those babies the first year sucked ass. not only did i have all the logistical bullshit of caring for three newborns, i had the infertile girl's guilt for feeling like my life sucked ass with babies. i didn't enjoy them. i have virtually no good memories with them, and i question whether i just don't remember, or if there were any good moments at all. all those years trying, fantasizing, planning...gone to shit. i will always feel robbed (for what i lost) and guilty (for what they lost) about having three at once. and to top it off, i'm now a freak for life. i'm the triplet lady, forever and ever. (little did i know it was just practice for the real freak show: dead baby mom!).

fast forward through their second year, during which we bought our first home (an hour away from where we're from). it was my second year of co-existing anxiety and depression; i had gone from a successful, educated, socializing girl to a homemaking mother of three in her first home, waaaay away from home (well, far enough to keep me from a casual night out with the girls). i was all over the place. november brought the start of the holiday season, and the switch flipped. i was getting myself back together. we had decided that we wouldn't have any more kids, i started working out and losing the baby weight, and planned for my future...until the fateful morning in january when i opened the bedroom door where husband was sleeping. a gush of body odor assaulted my ultra-sensitive nose and i felt hatred for him, and in that moment, i knew i could be pregnant. two lines instantly appeared. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? i didn't want more children. i was just beginning to get my shit together! goddamn you, universe!

so, there i found myself, pregnant. there began the process of adjusting all thought, plan, and reason to the positives of another baby. i could experience labor and birth. i could experience the joys of the 1:1 mother to baby ratio. i could experience actual breastfeeding as opposed to pumping 3/4 gallon of milk a day for a year like a goddamn dairy cow. the sibling age gap seemed ideal. my thoughts about sending all three to kindergarten on the same day and finding myself alone were gone...i'd have a three year old to buffer. on the flip side, i had alot of ambivalence about all those positives; how would i deal with the guilt of giving all that 1:1 time and attachment to her and not my first three?

fast forward to her due date....