Damn you, Yaz

I’ve always considered myself to be fiercely independent. I spent a good part of my youth unsupervised, held jobs since I was 14, went away for high school, and again for college, and then relocated to Boston immediately after. My independence has suited me, and I was comfortable being on my own and worrying only about myself and my needs. I always thought I wanted children, but knew I wanted to wait until my 30’s, once I had an established career. Life isn’t quite so neat however, and when I ‘fell pregnant’ in the middle of law school (love when old novels used that term), I welcomed motherhood.

7 years later I sit here cursing Bayer pharmaceuticals and the Turkish doctor who told me that Yaz (well Yazz over here) was just as good as Ortho Tricyclen, which I had been taking until arriving in Turkey. It is, in fact, NOT as good, as evidenced by this growing belly of mine.

My nemesis

My nemesis

I never imagined that I would ever have 3 children, especially since I grew up as an only child and was not used to the chaos that a big family brings. My husband is one of six so he’s used to the crazy, but I’ve had to slowly adjust to the high level of noise, constant bickering, constant mess, and lack of any time for myself unless I’m up until 2am (which happens quite often). I yell far too often, repeat myself like a broken record, and date nights now consist of quiet threats and apologies to strangers for the various things my kids might have done.

So the prospect of a 4th child was out of the question. Had it not been for a hectic summer and a nervous husband, we would have ensured the crazy ended at 3, but trying to convince a man to snip the goods is like trying to, well, convince a man to snip the goods.


So here we are, 3 kids, a dog, and a baby on the way. My dreams of jet setting first class have been dashed. How we’ll even manage to secure 6 seats near each other on our many flights is daunting in itself. I’ve resigned myself to forever listening to jokes about starting our own basketball team, and if I wasn’t already used to the eye rolls when we walk into a restaurant, I surely will be by this time next year. Since we value education and will now have to put 4 through college, It’s pretty safe to say we won’t be owning that dream home in the tropics.

All I know is that my boys better be mama’s boys, and my girl (or girls) better love the shit out of me and skip all that teenage angst that I know is coming. I can also rest pretty easy knowing that out of 4 loving children, at least one will be willing to take care of us in old age and change an adult diaper or two. One can only dream.

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