I love this time of the year. The time when the temperature drops, the leaves change colors, and the over-all mood of everyone seems to change because the holidays are just around the corner. I love this time of the year, except for one thing...the "yearly" check-up is upon me. You know what I'm talking about...that dreadful thing that every woman has to endure once a year. The one, of many, things that women have to experience that men do not. That one thing that women have to say goodbye to privacy and hello to putting it all out there on the table...literally.
Now, let me make one thing clear here. I have been pregnant and now have a child. All things having to do with other people seeing your lady parts in the most unflattering way possible have all but ceased to bother me. I'm no longer ashamed to go through the said exam, but what I am dreading is the "talk" I'm going to get from my doctor about my weight. As if I don't see myself in the mirror every day. As if I don't know that my clothes don't fit me anymore. As if I don't loathe the fact that I am fully aware of my weight but cannot seem to make myself do anything about it. My doctor will still have the "talk". I'm sure he hates to have that talk as well but I literally hung up the phone after scheduling the appointment with my palms sweaty and my heart beating faster than usual with just the anticipation of the "talk". If you've ever been in trouble at school and was sent to the Principal's office and the walk down the hall seemed like you were walking to your death and you couldn't breathe right and you were shaky...that's how I feel. I hung up the phone and immediately thought of a story I could give him to lessen the "talk". What could I do to lose 20 pounds in less than week so he'll think I've done SOMETHING rather than just continue to get fat from a year ago. But I know there's nothing I can do in a week that will change the numbers enough on the scale. And this is why I'm dreading it. I will probably lose sleep over this as I am the type to over-think, over-analyze, and over-dramatize everything. And poor Wendell. He will be the one to endure it. That great man of mine. I should probably send him a warning...the storm that is Ashley, is coming. Take cover Wendell. Put up your barriers. My "poor me" attitude will be in full force at 5:00 PM. Why 5:00 you ask? Because I have to hold myself together at work until then.
I know in reality this is not that big of a deal. It just sucks when someone else puts the truth in your face. The truth is hard to hear. Which brings me to the next part of my news...
I'm going to talk to my doctor about the steps that need to be taken in the future to getting pregnant again. We've talked about it before but it was never a serious conversation because we were just not ready yet to have another baby. To everyone who views my relationship with Wendell as wrong or unorthodox because we're not married, well that's fine. The fact that we are a strong and loving couple who raises our child together with that same strength and love, seems pretty normal to me. Marriage is not something we have taken off the list of the things that we want, but we also acknowledge that the only difference between us and you is a piece of paper. It's going to happen folks, don't worry. In the mean time, my baby making clock is ticking and I think I have every right to want and plan for another one. The things I will be discussing with my doctor is: Is this possible? The health complications with my first born were scary. And because there are still no real causes known of preeclampsia, the unknown is even scarier. I clearly would need to get my weight down pretty significantly before even considering pregnancy. I'll also ask him to recommend a specialist. It's a given that I will need to see a specialist from the very beginning. My fear is that this specialist would recommend we not get pregnant as the risks may be too high. Everyone has always said that the risks of me experiencing the same thing and maybe being worse are too high. I feel like with the doctors watching me constantly now, that I wouldn't be the risk. I gave birth to Parker 8 weeks early. What if I had to deliver this next one even earlier? I'm not sure that I am willing to take that risk at all. You see these moms who pop out a kid every year and never once have a single problem. Moms that don't even want kids and don't take care of the ones they already have, never experience one issue. And then there's this. I'm feeling sorry for myself again and should be thankful that I was even able to have one child. Which I thank God every day for Parker. Sometimes it's just a hard reality to swallow...
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