I know it is not easy to be pregnant at any age–especially at the end. It always seems 2 weeks too long! I have a hard time finding an OB/GYN that will take me and my insurance–I end up at a “High Risk” OB. I have to go often and I spend time in a crappy waiting room with the same eight 2 year-old magazines. I sit there every week with pregnant 14 year-olds, crack addicts and illegals. I am not the oldest patient–there is a 48 year old carrying a baby for her son and his husband….
I realize it is a little less magical each time you are pregnant–you know what you’re in for! This entire journey seems almost joyless. Every check up starts with a sigh and something potentially fatal for me and the babe. I come home with fearful news, weary.
The hubs and I agree to the standard set of fetal tests in my blood work–but nothing more, it makes no difference, I just want to grow this baby, get it out and get the heck away from these people! I spend a lot of time sitting, looking at everything I should be doing. I moan and groan often. I eat roast beef and cream cheese almost daily! I even gobble down an entire cake of cream cheese one day and think about what an odd thing pregnancy cravings are. I worry, I pray. We find out it is another boy–that seems just right, My Three Sons, more like my Three Stooges.
Did I mention during this time I am living in a rodent infested trailer? Good Times-Fun Times! Towards the end of my pregnancy I get up about 1 am for my hourly “leg-cramp–heartburn–pee-a-bit”cha-cha. I sneek to the kitchen for a drink of water and I notice 2 yellow lights in the hall, my first thought was that it is was one of Noah’s toys…then it moves! I flip on the light and there it was a stinky, hissing, ugly opossum in the hall, in my home! This little bugger had found one of the many soft spots in the floor and pushed his way in. I opened the back door and tried to shoo him out–he held his ground and hissed and bared his teeth! I thought about getting a gun, but by the time I remember the combo, try it 6 times, get it open, choose a weapon and load it–he will have eaten my sleeping children!!! Plan B I grab the broom yelling–“Hey you donk-I thought you were supposed to play dead!!!” We wrestle for what seems like forever and he leaves the way he came. I cover the hole with a big heavy box and fall into the chair. My first thought was, “How did I get here?” then I thought–“If that didn’t scare the little fella out, maybe we are gonna be OK” (to be continued…)