and why I hate it.
No, not because I want to be pregnant again (honestly, the idea of two babies just barely over a year literally scares the hair off my arm), but because my insurance SUCKS for birth control. Generics only? Nope. Only the pill? Not a chance. Does my insurance cover ANY birth control?
NO!
I should have known, really. Paul works for the Catholic School System. Of course, in the scheme of things, they paid all but $250.00 for my emergency c section with a 5 day hospital stay and massive pain relief (which amounted to 40k with surgeons), and pay for all of Piper’s bills (minus co-pays), so it’s not too bad.
What a stereotype! Catholic Diocese will pay 100% of pregnancy and birth, along with childhood treatments up to 18 (21 if she’s a student), but refuses to pay ANYTHING for birth control. No tubes tied, no IUDs, and apparently… no birth control- pills, rings, patches or shots.
Yeah.
Now I have to pay out of pocket $94.00 for a three month supply, which adds up to: $376.00 a year to NOT get pregnant. I seriously would SAVE money if I got pregnant.
For other birth control options: condoms. We’re much too spur of the moment for that. FAM: I have such a wacky schedule with Piper and her sleep habits that I couldn’t rely on temping and whatnot. I could always go to a family planning center, but I’m 30 years old, I’m too old for that.
So, out of pocket it is. Really, though, Catholic Diocese insurance- you’re really all for propagating the Catholic-species, aren’t you?
So, I’ve been thinking about this post for a very long time. I think I’ve been a teensy bit depressed lately, but nothing too bad. I’ve mentioned before how much I adored being pregnant. I’ve also mentioned how much I absolutely adore my daughter, Piper.
Now this is where it gets nutty. I miss pregnancy so much I’m depressed that I’m no longer pregnant. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t love and fawn over my daughter any more than I possibly do, so it’s not that I’m resentful that she’s here. It’s an odd feeling, this sort of depression.
At night, while she’s sleeping, I scroll through the belly pics in my facebook album, crying because that time is gone. I get up and stand by Piper’s bassinet, and stare at the being that was created by us, who not too long ago kicked me in the same way she was kicking at that moment- only from the inside. I smile to myself because this baby is MAGIC. She’s a wonder, really.
Then, I get back into bed, resolve to stop looking at those belly pics and turn on my side, my hand resting on what now is a flappy belly, cris-crossed with stretch marks. My belly has not forgotten her residence there, so how can I?
It’s hard to pin down exactly what I could do to stop feeling so melancholy about not being pregnant now. It’s not like I can cram her back in there. 
Then again, I don’t WANT to be rid of Piper, I want her here, within arm’s reach.
Still, I hate this feeling. I hate feeling jealous of people announcing pregnancy. I get sad knowing we’re only going to have 2, and the next baby won’t be for years. I don’t just get sad, I get wistful, and have to force myself to stop visiting the pregnancy boards online because it just makes me sadder.
People laugh at me when I say I wish I could be pregnant forever, but I mean it. Mother Nature may be playing a small trick on me, making me forget whatever was bad about my pregnancy. I do remember one of the few moments where I’d throw up, but still crouch there, smiling because I knew what was going on was great, and pretty soon I’ll feel better anyway.
I guess the only way to avoid feeling so utterly crushed by not being pregnant is to avoid it when it’s around me. As much as I’d like hundreds of children, even having a third isn’t feasible for us.
So, I’m not sure if I’m feeling baby blues or not. This has nothing to do with Piper, really, I just miss all that time I carried her around, when everything was a surprise and I would just lay there in bed, my palm resting on her bottom. Now, my palm rests on her bottom, but it’s a little more vocal now.
