I knew from the moment I decided to become a freelance writer that one of my few true loves, writing-wise, is parenting. I absolutely love it. However, I was warned by many that the parenting field is very competitive and extremely flooded, so I decided to start in a less competitive genre to cut my teeth. As I had hoped, I did get some profitable work, as well as some great clips, by starting in agriculture.

As soon as I started writing this blog, nearly 2 years ago, I was hooked for life on being a parenting writer. The fodder for posts is infinite, plus I can honestly say that my passion for it is endless. All I want to do now is write children’s books and parenting essays, columns, books and blogs for a living. It is truly a joy.

My new blog is yet another stone on the path to reach this goal of writing in almost nothing but the aforementioned genres. I hope that I will see you over there, and if you’d be so kind as to leave a comment here and there, I’d be grateful.

And in case you were worried, I’ll still be posting here most weekdays. You can’t get rid of me that easily!

Along with the crimson vision-inspiring claims were a couple laughable ones. The author claims that part of the reason why women become bumpaholics is because they relish the attention they get while pregnant.

Come on. Seriously? Anyone who needs that kind of attention badly enough to procreate in order to get it needs some therapy. Not to mention that I and every mom of 3 or more kids that I know would prefer to not get any attention at all. I hated being noticed when I was feeling like a beached whale. I just wanted to hide, not have every smiling stranger come over and pat my belly or people move way out of my way in their effort to give me room.

Also, the amount of negative attention you attract when you’re already carting around 2 or 3 kids and visibly expecting another is much more than I ever dreamed. When I was pregnant with Logan, my fourth and last, I can’t tell you how many rude, insensitive comments I got. Things like, “You do know by now what causes that, don’t you?” Even my own mother said that I looked like a walking advertisement for why people should use birth control (though, admittedly, I laughed when she said it).

Another line from the article that I thought was absolutely ridiculous was this one, also playing into the attention argument: “Spouses and partners dote on you, gladly delivering soup at 10 a. m. or antacids at 11 p. m.” Oh, please! I’m sure there are partners who do that sort of thing, but I would bet that the majority don’t. Even so,it still would not make up for how uncomfortable and painful pregnancy and childbirth are. Certainly no woman in her right mind would become pregnant just for that.

To turn having a large family into another mainstream addiction is appalling, unfair and ridiculous. It seemed to me that the author twisted all her source’s words to fit her own motive. Even the experts she quoted were clearly talking about the few women who do have a problem with procreating to fill some need/void, not any woman with more than 2 kids.

Bumpaholics, indeed. We’re not all Octo-Mom, for pete’s sake.

What do you think of this recently coined term for moms of larger families, “bumpaholics?” Is this theory ridiculous in your opinion? Entirely plausible? Just another ploy by the media to gain readers? Share your thoughts!

Her most recent coup is an essay she wrote for Babble.com as a rebuttal for the offensive piece that Women’s Health ran recently on women who have large families, dubbed “bumpaholics.” Meagan was quoted in the aforementioned article, entitled, “The Belly-Rubbing High;” however, most of her comments were left out as they most certainly would have disproved the author’s theory that women who have large families have emotional, psychological and/or intellectual issues.

There are so many offensive parts to this article, I could probably write a doctoral dissertation in my efforts to refute it. The bottom line is that though I’ve no doubt there are women who fit the writer’s description of loving the attention pregnancy brings and trying to fill a void in their lives with babies, the generalizations that prevail throughout the piece feel like they’re aimed at ALL mothers of large families, myself included.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure here, let me say that before I had kids, and possibly even when I only had the girls, I was completely and utterly boggled by big families. I felt very critical and superior toward them, particularly the large families in my community who I knew didn’t have a lot of money.

“Why would they have so many kids when they can’t really afford them?” I asked my husband multiple times. He, who is from a large and not super-prosperous family, always defended these families, saying they probably loved kids and that was more important to them than having money. I’d just shake my head, feeling sorry for these people who clearly didn’t know how to use birth control. To me it seemed irresponsible to have a bunch of kids, especially when you weren’t able to provide well for them.

Now here I am, the mother of four, and vocal about my desire to have more. Craaaaazy, right?

My point is that I know what it’s like to be on both sides. I think our society has taught us to value material possessions more than personal relationships and this can translate into the decisions we make about our offspring as well. Larger families are looked down upon in general because they often have less and seem chaotic and crazy, at least one of which is pretty close to true for most of us, I think.

Here’s the part of the article that really lit my fuse more than any other: “But plenty of couples stop at one or two children, despite the fundamental drive to reproduce. This is because we can use our higher brain functions to keep those instincts in check, reminding ourselves that children cost money—about $950 a month until they’re 18—and require an extraordinary amount of time and energy.”

Oh, OK, so evidently I’m not intelligent enough to keep my instincts in check? Yeah, I’m not at all insulted by that generalization.

I can,  however, use my higher brain functions to save mega bucks by swapping baby clothes, toys and necessities with my extended family members; forcing my children to save up their money and buy their own high-dollar items; buying clothes and shoes on clearance; getting food in bulk; and a zillion other tricks I’ve learned over the years. $950/month per child? Seriously? That’s absolutely crazy. There’s no reason on God’s green earth that a child should cost that much unless he/she has some major medical issues.

More on this another time …

My kids have a new baby cousin, Luke, and we finally got to see him for the first time yesterday. He’s three weeks old now and the most precious little guy. I got to hold him for quite awhile (not as long as I would have liked, of course) and it was pure bliss cuddling that tiny little body, listening to his adorable baby noises, inhaling the sweet, new-baby scent of him and watching his hands and face move as he slept.

But holding Baby Luke left a distinct longing in my soul and I found myself envying his mom, even though she was sleep-deprived and basically playing the role of milk machine/chew toy. That amount of time when your child is an infant and you meet her needs in a fog of sleep-deprivation and happiness occasionally bordering on hysteria just blurs by, especially when you have more than one to take care of, as I always have.

Maybe that’s why I feel the impact of baby fever so strongly; since I’ve always had more than one child, I never got that uninterrupted, blissful time with a first baby that most new moms enjoy. I experienced it to a degree with Cody because by that time, the girls were 4, but it’s not the same.

“You’ve had your turn,” I kept reminding myself as I reluctantly placed Luke back in his lucky mom’s arms. “You’ve had more turns than many people get.” The self-talk didn’t help one bit — the longing for a baby of my own hung on.

I don’t know how to stop my at-times-overwhelming desire for another baby. Even thinking about the fact that I would be, in effect, starting all over again doesn’t decrease the want.

So I guess my options are these:

* force my soon-to-be-delivering little sister to move in with me (or at least close-by) so I can get baby fixes whenever I want
* get a tiny indoor dog who will happily cuddle with me
* wait another 12-20 years to hog my grandchildren, assuming they live nearby, and meanwhile get my occasional baby fixes here and there

Sigh. I just don’t think my sister is going to agree…

Ever get baby fever? Are you sad that you’re finished having kids even though you don’t REALLY want any more? Share your baby fever experiences here!