Metamorphosis II.

It is said that every pregnancy differs from each other. Being in the family way for the first time a decade ago was not the nice type. But I was so committed. Although, vomiting and sickness remained loyal and did not leave me to expect the baby in peace. While I was squatting in front of the toilet bowl, I knew well that it could not be the end of the story in children point of view, just because 9 terrible months, which was the worst 9 months of my life.

In my girlish novel - inspired by perfectionism, the age difference between my two children would had been 3 years (and their fathers would had been the very same person). In my girlish novel - inspired by life, the age difference between my children is 11 years (and their fathers are different). Oh my... Whose life is it? On the third birthday of my sweet Dominik his father had already been on another way. My choice, best choice.

7 years living on our own. 7 nice years. Almost perfect and almost complete. Memorable, worth to remember. Enviable as a one-parent family. The kind of life that never returns again. I think the maximum was brought out of the situation. It was full of efforts and events. Efforts aim to feel we live. To learn what and who counts. To learn how to be really independent. To learn how to refill. To travel. To create a fairy world. Attempts to let somebody into our life.

So those years let the desire of a second child sleep. I did everything on my own. I considered my  son's interest as the very first. First and foremost. Seeing the sunset or walking in the city after sunset or simly going out or just spending some time alone, all required some organization (babysitting). By the time we reached the "comfort level", the idea of the second child was almost completely abandoned.

Then Gabi came. Without child but with the love of children. Then me, as a (naive) benefactress, I had the conviction that he deserved an own child. As he was at the age of 43, there was no time to waste. This is how it could happen that only after 2 months, when even the pregnancy test said negative, I knew exactly the baby is coming. I do not deny that I had mixed feelings. On hand, because I knew empirically that everything would be changed. Everything. A baby is a challenge for couples. If the relationship is not stable enough, the tiny new arrival may make it stronger or make it broken. And on the other hand, I also had the concern what if the same terrible 9 months repeated, when I am not myself at all. Additionally, I already have a child to take care about. 

A baby requires several years of full commitment and self-immolation. I wanted Gabi to do his share, partly at least, indeed. I really did not want to do everything around the baby on my own. I told him at the very beginning that he really must stand by me and must make me feel his love so that I can do it. So I worried. When it became clear that vomiting and sickness stay with me again, I just accepted and adapted myself to the circumstances and bore my destiny with meekness.

I wanted to slow down but not that much. I got the desired deceleration, time stopped for months. I even did not want to avoid the hospital and the infusion. I seriously dried out. When we run into difficulties during blood taking and acetone was found in my urine and I felt as feeble as never before, I needed some help. The infusion helped. Though, not much. As soon as my body got accustomed, vomiting returned. Vomit reducer was OK for me but not OK for the baby. Therefore, the dose must be feeded gingerly. However, it was good to take a new lease of life in some degree.

As a summary, the very same terrible (or even worse) period of my life returned for 9 months, for the last time. But it was worth every second of struggling and suffering and pain. Not only the medical results showed but also I knew exactly from the beginning to the end that the baby and its parameters are very OK, all the time. I just needed to hold on and calm down the worrying grandparents on my husband's side time after time.

 

My sixth sense made me to preserve in perfect, unexeptionable condition all clothes, toys and belongings of Dominik. So, I'm a mother of the two greatest boys in the world. No girls. This is not that generation. Maybe my grandchildren, those will be females. And to make the story complete, I also got a third boy. My husband is the biggest kid in the family. Seriously.