I’ve been having a few health issues lately, which I haven’t complained [much] about. I have been really really tired – checkout girl at Walmart went so far as come a hairsbreath away of accusing Rogan of abusing me one day because I looked so awful. My mom even commented on how tired I looked when she came to see me last weekend, for my birthday, and was very worried.

I have chalked it up to stress all these weeks, of looking and being, more tired than usual. I just thought it was stress of three kids and my on-again-off-again insomnia being currently on-again. (Oh, why can’t it just permanently break up with me already??) I mean, there are just all kinds of things in my hectic life I can look at and say “aha! That is why!”.

I’ve also been working on my YA (Young Adult) novel; staying up and working on it most nights and trying to get as high a word count as I can coax out of my addled mind – as that is about the only clear time I can write without toddler distruptions. Again, a product, mostly, of the insomnia. And the stress of, when it’s completed, if it will be good enough to find an agent with and if it will sell to publishers and if the public will receive it well. [Yes, I have issues that would fill the luggage compartment of a 747, feel sorry for my husband because he has to listen to just about all of it being opened in any given day.]

Then, just this week, I’ve been having problems keeping food down.

Monday I ran a teeny bit of a temperature, because 98 is a temp for me since normal is around 92-94 for me, but not enough to really totally kick my butt. But, I had the teen help me watch the girls because I was completely wiped out of energy and ended up sleeping a good part of the day away. Tuesday, some of the same. I was good during the morning, but afternoon nap kicked my butt and I ended up letting the wee ones play in the bedroom while I layed curled up under the covers.

The rest of the week I was just fine, except for my tummy. I haven’t even been able to successfully keep a cup of coffee down, tea is iffy. And my moods have been swinging from the rafters like monkey in the zoo.

This really got my mind going full tilt. Yes, last week Aunt Flo visited, but she was weird in a way she is never weird. And last month she was a little fritzy, too. And, maybe those four episodes I saw of “I Didn’t Know I was Pregnant” have me all paranoid (because, I am, as always, paranoid of just about everything), but total panic started sinking into my brain. The What-If factor started a full out marathon of panic.

See, I have three kids. One is a teenager, 16 to be exact, and the two youngest are 3 and under. My days are full of emoness and “can you repeat that without your pacy in your mouth, please?” with a side dish of “Oh, my god, what crawled up your bum??” In addition to all of that, we have three dogs, two cats (who think they are also dogs and go on walks around the neighborhood with us), two parrots (hey, can’t blame those on me, we inherited them from FIL) and 15 chickens (yeah, ok, those are my fault). AND we are talking about either a mini milk cow (46 inches or under) or a milk goat – hey, we go through a gallon of milk a day or more!

Another baby, besides the health risks to myself (which is why we decided to have my tubes tied after our last baby was born), would make things completely and totally chaotic around here (even more so than usual). There is absolutely no way, in my head, at this moment in time that I could handle this; I could completely loose my bloody mind if we added another baby into our midst. (As it is, some nights I sleep at the bottom of our bed because the two little ones are taking up a majority of our King sized bed.) I gave away all the little baby stuff as soon as our 16 month old grew out of them. We have NOTHING for a new baby. NOTHING for a pregnancy, I gave most of those clothes away to a really nice lady on Freecycle who needed them.

If I am pregnant, we will find a way to deal with all the extra complexities which will invade our lives. After all, we are resilent, if nothing else. And, if we are pregnant, not only will I get my tubes redone after the birth, but hubby will get fixed AND we will go on some kind of birth control!!!! (I am nothing if not an overacheiver.)

This, this is what I am afraid of, ya’ll. Another baby will add stress on the entire family. And, at MY age, there is the possiblity of multiples because my eggs are all trying to hatch before they go bad. Also, the risk of birth defects, while not as bad as they would be if I were over 40, are still a significant risk. Don’t get me wrong here. We would love the baby no matter what – we had to argue with OB last pregnancy because she wanted to send us for “genetic counceling” because I was over 35 and we told her it wasn’t necessary because, with the exception of my life being in immediate danger or the baby’s life never being viable outside the womb, we would not terminate a pregnancy because of a birth defect. I am pro-choice, it’s just not a choice I am prepared to make for myself, and I know there are some out there who do terminate disabled pregnancies. It’s a choice, it’s their bodies. I do not judge.

So…since is only a few weeks away from Halloween….what scares YOU?

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