You know, our society has a greater amount of women having children over 40. On purpose. I have to say that I find that completely nuts. Wait, wait! Hold up! I’m not being judgemental, I’m being bloody honest.
I’m 42 and 15 weeks pregnant.
ONLY 15 weeks. The first 13 were awful. My boobs were so sore and sensitive that crossing my own arms became impossible let alone sleeping on them. Forget that! I’d weep just thinking about it. Please keep in mind that I’m only just entering my second trimester and I’ve already gone up TWO cup sizes. Dear lord, help me! Then there was the constant nausea and occasional bouts of “kill me now” vomiting sessions. All the time. Forget this morning sickness shit. It was 24/7 sickness. I’d crave something, eat it and then that same thing would make me sick as a dog. Evil, evil little parasite.
I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Except maybe the age I am doing this. Again.
My first child, a brilliant, caring, gorgeous daughter, was also a little surprise bundle of joy when I was just 20 years old. The apple of my eye. The one thing I did right in life. My one and only child…or so I’ve thought for 23 years. Yep. There are 23 years between my two children.
I’ve done the pregnancy both ends of the spectrum. Neither were planned. Neither are regretted.
January 31, 2016: this blog had not been published at the time due to my simply forgetting to finish it. Things have changed since this was written. At 19 weeks I had no choice but to terminate my pregnancy due to serious health issues. Let me just say it was the hardest decision I have ever had to make. One that a part of me will always be very upset about. I cried throughout the procedure as well as afterwards and on some level will always regret things not progressing as they should. Yes, I know things worked out for “the best” but it still sucks big fat sweaty monkey balls.
On a side note, I am pro-choice and always will be. But I have to say that the whole procedure was something that I’d never want to go through but once. It wasn’t pleasant and affected me quite deeply. I’m glad of course, of being able to have a choice, but it still wasn’t easy physically nor mentally.
Our little boy whom we named Colton George William. Never really made it here, but will never be forgotten.