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The Road to Motherhood...

It starts out as a twinge, an inkling that maybe just maybe you could imagine having a baby down the road. You begin to respond when other people's children engage you in childlike conversation and don't recoil from sticky fingers.

You begin to pause as you pass the baby section of any department store and even begin to pick through the racks ooohing and ahhhing over tiny dresses and baby bow ties. You fawn over tiny little shoes and run your hand absently over your abdomen as your heart swells imaging the tiny feet that would wear such precious things.

You start mentioning to your dh about how now would be an ok time to start a family and your heart clenches as he says that "we can think about it" not knowing that you have already planned down to the day when you will have each of your 3 children...I mean 3's a nice round number. You have names picked out and you've already decided on the party theme for babies 1st bithday.

You sit on pins and needles as you wait for dh to agree that he is ready to start with the baby making. He thinks he's just gonna be getting a lot of "the good stuff" and for the first few months he does. Spontainious sex at its best but that elusive positive isn't as easy to get.

You begin to "take charge of your fertility". You chart and temp, you lay on your back your butt suspended above your head as you will gravity to pull down the spermies from your well timed baby dance.

You tackle the internet and find websites full of women on the same journey to insanity and obsess every time you fart or gag over spoiled leftovers in the fridge. You can no longer just go to the bathroom. You dissappear into the inner sanctum and with chart in hand begin your regim of touching and looking and poking and proding and stretching. You try to involve dh by asking him if he thinks this cm is watery or more like eggwhites? He looks at you strangely and vows never to walk into the bathroom while you are in there again.

You begin to get obsessed with hpt's. Peeing on a stick becomes a fine art as you become skilled at getting the pee on the stick and not all over your hand and you can crack an hpt open and dismantle its contents in 5 seconds flat.

Finally you reach a breaking point. DH is getting tired of performing on demand an you can't understand why month after month, symptom after symptom af rears her ugly head. You agree to take a break for a month and discuss getting medical intervention. You make the appointment.

Suddenly you are so tired you fall asleep on the bus on the way home. You have to pee all the time and your comfort food is leaving you uncorfortable. You actually have to stop and think about the times you bd'd that month and cautiously poas.

+++ you can't believe it and in fact you could own stock in an hpt company for all the tests you've bought just to be sure. Now begins the next part of your journey.

Once the joy from the positive settles you stomach turns as the morning sickness kicks in. You smile bravely as you hurl in the nearest recpticle for what seems like the 100th time that day but you can deal because in a few short months you will be rewarded for this.

Soon you face midnight potty runs, mid morning food runs and carrying a backpack filled with doctor approved remedys for the nausiating heartburn, gas, bloating, headachy congestion that plagues you daily.

You endure test after test and enough ultrasounds to make your bladder the strongest muscle in your body. You face gestational diabetes, hypertension, placenta previa...and a host of other complications.

You enter the last trimester swollen and no longer aware of when the last time you shaved you legs and unable to wear shoes that require anything more than insert foot. You are tired but can't sleep, hungry but can't eat. You want your dh only to touch you if he can promise that he'll pull this baby out of you.

Finally you go into labour or so you think as you are sent home time and time again and told not to come back until the contractions hurt. And just how painful do these things have to be for the doc to pay attention because these things are like a 9 on the richter scale!

You finally go in and tell the doc that you are not leaving the hospital without your your arms! Gratefully you are told you are 4 cm. Thank god 4 cm you only have 6 more to go.

You get the epidural and laugh at the sick irony of being told to hold still so he can poke a needle in your spine as a contraction crashes into you like a mack truck.

36 hours of labor later you look at your dh as he says come on hunny you can do it. You swear bodily harm if he ever does this too you again. You scream, he cries and the doc with the aid of hoover bring your lil precious into the world but not before splitting you wider than you were before.

As you are lying there battered and bruised and bloodied, exhausted to tears and torn to shreds and ready to hurt your doc as you realise the pain meds are wearing off and you feel your girly parts being sewn back together.

The nurse walks over and hands you this tiny bundle and whispers congrats and you look into the face of this creature who has torn you apart from the inside and as your baby blinks open its goopy eyes and stares at you for the first time you choke back a sob and look at your dh and say...

"Let's have another one."

-This was written in January 2006 by Kari, a talented member of