(Again, no announcement from the house of the ravenous 6-month-old. What's really happening is I'm looking through things I plunked out while I was pregnant. :D)
One thing that sticks in my head from the P--------- Housewives was one of the writers talking about how in her later pregnancies she spent the last few months in a wheelchair due to some problem I can't remember (and can't look up because I'm too lazy to get out of my chair).
1. Rock out, sister. You're tough.
2. Folks in my extended circle would probably not take too kindly to this. I mean, haven't we proven our point by now? Isn't this getting a little out of hand?
I know it's stupid to think people are all that interested in my life, but at the same time, I'm still feeling the pressure to represent. Every pregnancy has its thorn, and although His grace is sufficient, there isn't always much we can do to keep the poky things from showing through sometimes, laws of physics being what they are.
And then there's a part of me that wants to know what the heck I expect people to expect. Should the only person they know who has a somewhat unusual number of kids be someone whose pregnancies are pure radiance and bliss? Kind of false advertising, no? (And I say this even as someone who, on the grand scale of pregnancy, is definitely closer to the "not so bad" end.)
Well, anyway. Into every pregnancy a little pain must fall and there's not a thing to be done about it. But it does sadden me to know that some people--especially people I love and whose opinion I value--think I'm stupidly imposing needless hardship on myself, and that their judgment is based on their perception of the hardship (?!) rather than the blessing.
To whom it may concern: you can just smile and tell us how happy you are for us, since we clearly think it's worth it--which is not to say that when you visit you won't observe a voice raised, a carelessly spoken word, a dreary sigh, a narcoleptic episode, a wince or a limp. We're still broken sinners. If it bothers you that much, just stay away until we have a jolly fatling to show off. And, again, if you're really that worried about me you can always buy me a present!! SO obvious.