End of a chapter melancholy.

   As I am nearing my 33rd week of pregnancy I am getting a bit sentimental. For few weeks I thought that it was the influx of pregnancy hormones that enter pregnant-woman's brain in the last trimester, but then I realized that it's something profoundly different. I have been pregnant 4 times (not including the molar pregnancy); that means four times morning sickness, four times getting my ultrasound, for times entering my third trimester, and this is going to be fourth time I go through labor and delivery. It also means 7 ultrasounds, over 20 blood tests, five Glucloa drinks ingested to test for Diabetes testing, four B-strep swabs, 40 uterus measurements, 45 times hearing baby's heartbeat, over 60 prenatal visits, and 36 months spent being pregnant. The result of all of this will be four beautiful kids that I helped to bring into this world.

   After four times being pregnant I think that I finally figured things out. I know what to expect of my pregnant body. Unfortunately, I learned all this just in time to quit having more kids. It seems a little insane to me that when I finally understand all the intricacies of being pregnant it's time to stop. It's similar to driving blindly three times and finally finding a map at the end of fourth trip just in time to never drive again. And since this map is specific to just only my trips I can't even share it with anyone else, at least not in it's entirety.


   I don't think all this feelings are emerging because I loved being pregnant. As a matter of fact I dislike being pregnant for the most part. Of course, I love the feeling of a squirmy baby in my belly, I love the excitement of peeing on a pregnancy stick and finding two lines. I love the anticipation before the big ultrasound revealing the gender of our child. I most of all love holding the newborn, still scented with the aroma of amniotic fluid, in my arms for the first time and gazing in his or her eyes while we introduce ourselves. I do love all these special things that come with being pregnant. But I really don't care for being pregnant.

   With each pregnancy it has become more difficult to be pregnant and still enjoy it. From back pain and indigestion to developing Gestational Diabetes and hemorrhaging, each pregnancy has been more taxing on my body. I look at women who enjoy pregnancy and envy them. They seem to breeze through the nine months with not as much as a queasy day. They have a glow about them and radiate motherly beauty. When you ask them how are they feeling their response is always "Fantastic, I love this pregnancy thing". It's a hard thing for me not to both hate them and envy them at the same time. For me pregnancy is a means to an end, for them it is an enjoyable journey.

   So if I hate being pregnant so much why am I sad about never going through it again? My best explanation is that it's an end of a chapter in my life. In the last 10 years I have been pregnant for 36 months, nursed for seven and a half years (add 2.5 for this baby and that will be 10 years nursing), and have spent over 9 years molding little babies into people. I have been pooped on, spit up on, yelled at, thrown up on. I have had more sleepless nights than rock-stars, and have done more loads of laundry than Hilton hotel, but I have also enjoyed hugs and cuddles that make all the other work worth it. I love being a mom, despite the hard work and no breaks. I love my kids and love spending time with them, and raising them. Watching my babies turn into mature, understanding, and kind kids is the highlight of being a mom.

   I guess that I am just a little sentimental this time around since it is the last time. I know that this will be the very last time that I would look at the pregnancy test and find out that I am expecting. It will also be the very last time that I will feel the baby moving on the inside of me, the very last time I will watch my belly grow to accommodate the developing infant, the very last time that I will feel the labor pains and gaze upon the sweet face of my newborn. I am saddened by the last times.

   Of course the end of this chapter of my life will be the beginning of another one. For once, as soon as this baby is delivered I will never again have to wear big, maternity outfits. When Monkey In-Waiting finally moves out of our bed and into his own, then I can finally co-sleep with my own husband as opposed to a kicking, tossing infant. When I am done nursing Monkey In-Waiting for the last time, I will never have to own another nursing bra and slowly my body will become mine once again. In few years I can get rid of all the baby clothes and baby toys that have we have stored for years "for the next baby". I am excited about all these things.

   I know that I will never stop being a mom, even if I am not bringing new life into this world, but I also know that my role as mom will change. My involvement in my kids' lives will slowly start diminishing and be replaced by guidance and suggestions. I will eventually start taking a step back from controlling all the decisions in their best interest and let them decide things for themselves. I will exchange sleepless nights with infant for late night discussions on dating and driving. The "Mommy" in me will become a "Mom". I am saddened at that.

   But at the same time, I will get to have more and more time with my husband, something that having little kids in the house doesn't allow for much. We will get to have the opportunity to watch a late night movie together, or talk uninterrupted. It will slowly start becoming more and more "us" again. I am really looking forward to that part of our next chapter. I can see us taking a trip in few years, just the two of us. We will never stop being "Mom and Dad", but we will have more time for being "Husband and Wife", and some day will will enjoy being "Grandma and Grandpa" too.

   End of chapters are always a bit sad, but a good book never ends there. It just means that the adventures continue on the next pages that are yet to be written.