Glutton for punishment

Glutton for punishment:

July 20, 2006

I’m just recovering from the most difficult year of my life. I spent nine months dealing with constant nausea, fighting to keep crackers and water down. I endured three stays in the hospital, hooked up to an IV while being constantly poked and prodded. I tolerated forty pounds of weight gain and persisted through six months of running and eating salads to lose those forty pounds. I survived an emergency c-section and weeks of being unable to sit up without help. I carried on through sleepless nights and leaky breasts and an itchy c-section scar. I drug myself out of bed for three o’clock feedings and went out in public in my pajamas to buy diapers at the mini mart. I swore to my husband that I would never, without a doubt, even think about getting pregnant again. Joey was just going to have to be an only child. Yet here I am, six months out and I told my husband last night that I am ready. I want another baby. Am I glutton for punishment?