For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Kimberly. I have a 3 year old, a husband, a nice house in a quiet neighborhood, perfect hair, and a mad crush on Chuck Norris…
And this year has been the worst year of my life.
To sum up 2011, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder after 3 years of suffering with postpartum depression, a reoccurrence of debilitating back pain that makes it hard for me to fart some days, I waged war against my employer and took them to court for the third and final time, I’ve had 2 bouts of tonsillitis in 3 months, and now there’s a tumor IN my gallbladder that has devoured 13 pounds of me in 4 weeks.
Oh and my dog is a b-hole because he got his fat head stuck in the Christmas manger.
Don’t worry, baby Jesus was saved.
I’m a piece of work aren’t I?
But this post is not for sympathy.
It’s about pregnant women.
Did I throw you off?
Probably not as much as Kim Kardashian’s divorce eh?
There seems to be a huge (that word and pregnant in the same sentence makes me giggle) number of women becoming pregnant in the blog sphere and in my “real” life. Hearing about pregnancies makes me all warm and fuzzy inside until I think about my situation and then it pisses me off.
You bet your uterus I am.
When I look at my family of three, I feel complete. If you ask me what makes me happy I will unequivocally tell you that it resides in my son’s smile and his giggles that start right from the tips of his chubby toes.
My happy is hearing my husband tell me that I’m beautiful despite having worn the same PJ’s for 3 days in a row.
Happiness is at the end of the day when we are all snuggled in bed reading a book together. In that moment, I can look far beyond what went wrong in the day because all I need is what is there beside me.
My happy is them.
We aren’t perfect, but there is love around every corner of our home.
And that is all I need in this life…
But in the same breadth, I would like to have just one more child.
I know that the people in my life and those that read my blog will think that I’m off my rocker since my health has been ailing for quite a while, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t want.
Or hope for.
Deep down in an ugly little corner of my soul, I know that there is a huge possibility that it won’t happen for us and it breaks me sometimes.
So when I hear of a pregnancy announcement I do get jealous.
But I get especially angry when pregnant women complain of all the barfing and swelling and weight gain and karate kicks and insomnia and heartburn and not being able to drink and that you ran out of nachos and so on and so on.
All that stuff comes with the territory. You are growing a human that in 40 weeks you’re going to be able to love and squish on.
So before you start writing a plethora of Facebook statuses and Tweets, entire blog posts or calling your non-pregnant friends devoting a whole conversation on how fat you’re getting, I want you to stop, rub your belly and remind yourself of how blessed you are because there is a woman out there right now who wants to be in your shoes.
But really though, I’d love to tell you to shut up.
And when I start to get jealous of your cute round bellies and baby kicks and newborn smells, and angry because you complain about going 40 weeks without drinking a single sip of wine, that I’ll stop and remind myself of how blessed I am with what I have.
Because there is a woman out there right now who wants to be in my shoes…
…minus a gallbladder tumor, bipolar disorder, chronic back pain and a dog who is an ass face.
Please show Kimberly some comment love here and then go follow her blog All Work and No Play Make Mommy Go Something Something. You can also find her on twitter @momgosomething.