My partner and I were fortunate enough to welcome three children in just three years. Yes, it was a calculated decision. By “calculated,” I mean that the first two were meticulously planned, taking various factors into account, while the third was more of a spontaneous adventure fueled by an abundance of chocolate and wine on a snowy Valentine’s night, leading to questionable choices regarding birth control. With each new pregnancy, I observed just how quickly things shifted—not just in terms of my growing belly and expanding family, but in every aspect of the experience.
The Pregnancy Announcement
When we revealed our first pregnancy, we created an intimate atmosphere, gathering our loved ones in a softly lit room. I lit a candle that flickered gently, and the sound of harp music floated in the background. The joy was palpable, tears flowed, and hugs were shared as everyone eagerly anticipated the arrival of our little one. Friends and family marked their calendars and checked in regularly to see how I was feeling. I was showered with gifts, devoured every baby book, and absorbed all the advice I could get.
The announcement for our second child was much more casual. We called a few relatives and close friends in between chasing after our newly walking toddler. Everyone was thrilled for us, and my sisters and mom organized a lovely sprinkle, complete with a mani-pedi. I vaguely remember the experience—I might have dozed off!
Fast forward to our third child, and we opted for a more laid-back approach. We shared the news with family and friends as we crossed paths, if we remembered to. The response was usually a sweet smile followed by, “Oh, again?” Advice was scarce, and there were no showers—after all, we already had everything we needed.
The Maternity Clothes
For my first pregnancy, I eagerly anticipated wearing stylish maternity wear. I had plenty of time to shop, and my friends joined me to offer fashion advice. I envisioned myself looking like a chic version of a pregnant celebrity, complete with trendy accessories.
By the time my second pregnancy rolled around, I still wanted to maintain some semblance of style, but the energy just wasn’t there. By five months, my original maternity clothes were snug, so I ordered some larger, more practical options for a stay-at-home mom. The year of the velour tracksuit had begun. Gone were the heels and handbags; it was just me in my comfy attire.
When I learned I was pregnant with my third, I was still wearing those oversized maternity clothes. The elastic in my velour suits had seen better days, and frankly, I stopped caring about fashion. My priorities shifted to sneaking cake at the kitchen sink while juggling nap times for my 2-year-old and 8-month-old.
The Belly Touch
The first time someone rubbed my belly, it felt magical—like a spiritual connection. An elderly gentleman predicted I would have a boy, a wise soul destined for greatness. I soaked up the belly rubs and the compliments.
By my second pregnancy, I was less enthusiastic about unsolicited belly touches. When people reached for my bump, I often used my 1-year-old as a human shield. If I wasn’t carrying him, I would bend over his stroller to feign urgent attention, dodging the belly-stroking.
By my third, I perfected my resting bitch face, practicing it in the mirror before venturing out. It worked wonders! No one dared approach my pregnant belly. I can’t say I would’ve held back from a punch if someone had tried to invade my space again.
Eating
During my first pregnancy, I found my appetite increased significantly after the first trimester. I indulged thoughtfully, gaining weight that I managed to lose after a bit of effort in just nine weeks.
With my second child, I aimed to keep my cravings in check, but found myself snacking on chips while playing with my son on the kitchen floor. Velveeta mac and cheese became a staple, and I could down a container of chocolate milk in two gulps.
When my third pregnancy came around, I threw caution to the wind. I surrendered to every food whim I had. If I visited a burger joint without meat toppings, tears were shed—not mine, but those of the poor staff. I made frosting and devoured the entire batch. I even got my fist stuck in the peanut butter jar more than once. Let’s just say the “12 years and younger only” sign by the free cookie section at our local grocery store probably became my responsibility.
Baby Kicks
Midway through my first pregnancy, I felt the first gentle flutter of kicks—a sensation I cherished. The movements were soothing and beautiful, and I even cried when I felt the rhythmic hiccups for the first time.
During my second pregnancy, the kicks came sooner and were much stronger. By the end, I was regularly jolted by swift kicks to the ribs during dinner. I could even see little feet or hands pushing against my skin—fascinating yet painful.
By my third, my body had become a playground; my bladder was a slip and slide, and my ribs served as monkey bars. It was chaos, but every pregnancy brought its own unique challenges and joys. Regardless of the changes, the overwhelming happiness of meeting each new baby made it all worthwhile.
Now, after dropping off my three kids at school, I find solace in my velour jumpsuit with a batch of frosting as my only companion. No pregnancy necessary.
For more insights on the journey of motherhood, check out one of our other blog posts here. If you’re considering home insemination, you might want to explore reputable options, like the CryoBaby home insemination syringe kit. And for further reading on pregnancy and fertility, visit Science Daily.
In summary, motherhood is a journey filled with unexpected twists and turns. From the excitement of the first pregnancy announcement to the carefree chaos of the third, each experience shapes us in unique ways.
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