So, I’m still in college and still have three children and am still married.  We still live in the same run-down house–yep, we are one of the few families that have not been foreclosed on.  Yet.  So things are pretty good.  They must be because my husband and I decided last year, without the presence of alcohol, to have another child.  Willingly.  Really, I’m not kidding.  It took a few months but I am pregnant with a fourth child and am about to burst.  I have another month to go before the true joys of parenting this child will begin.  My unborn kicks, stabs, jabs, and even complains when I am hungry; it forces me awake several times a night, and seems angry when I am stressed.  It craves pie and movie theater nachos–it has to be movie theater, and it apparently wants me to clean behind the dryer.  I can’t sleep until I do and I have to do it because everyone else will get it wrong or something.  I truly feel like a host to an alien that is sucking all energy out of me along with my wallet.  I know, pregnancy is beautiful but not when you’ve done it four times and not when it’s summer and the dog is barking and not when the air conditioner is on the fritz–it ain’t pretty.  One plus–my body has been so stretched out by the previous three kids that I do not have any new stretch marks.  That’s right, the whole point to my blog about stretch marks and making the most of it is a total bust.

I have to admit that I am excited about a new baby–the after part of pregnancy and am even looking forward to a few nighttime feedings.  That will be my only chance to be alone.  I haven’t had a kid in over ten years so some of the fears of my first-time days are creeping up like labor pain, when will it happen, and is this stuff normal?  Watching pregnancy shows does not ease my fears at all–those women are suffering and begging for relief while screaming, moaning, squeezing, and grimacing.  I for one take advantage of modern medicine and opt for the epidural because I am not stupid.  I want to be happy to see my baby and not resent him or her for punishing me–there will be plenty of time for that.  And I know ’cause this ain’t my first time at the rodeo.  I know exactly what is ahead which I think is a little more daunting then actual labor.

My unborn baby is already defiant as she kicks and squirms plenty for me, but the second my husband or one of the kids puts their hand on my belly, the baby is still and will not comply.  Naturally.  Why would one of my kids listen now?  They don’t listen later so I appreciate the heads up early from this one.  Another sign of things to come.  My kids think that having a new baby is cool and they seem legitimately excited.  My daughter though thinks my belly is weird and it freaks her out.  I lift up my shirt anyway and show her my protruding belly.  She has decided to adopt.