We're expecting baby #5...and I want to die

Yes, you read the title right -- #5!! I know what you're thinking: 'Five kids? Are you insane?'
The answer is, yes. Yes, I am. Of course, I've always been a little bit crazy, but having kids has made it much, much worse.

The funny thing is, I didn't even want kids before. I thought kids were just little creatures that made your life harder and kept you from doing the things you wanted to do (turns out I was right, btw). But then, at age 21, I joined the Mormon church where they taught the importance of having children, that it was a part of the reason we came to Earth.
"Have Children" they said, "Don't drink alcohol," they said...It made sense to me at the time, but now I see it was all a part of their master plan to make us women miserable. ;) 

But, miserable or not, another little one is on the way.

I tried to keep it a secret as long as I could this time around. Not because I was worried about miscarriage or was afraid of people's opinions of us having "yet another child." But because I didn't want people coming up to me with their huge smiles, saying in their cheery voices, "Congratulations!" or "We're so happy for you!" Why? Because, honestly, with how tired I am from already having four kids, I'd much rather people send me their condolences than congratulations.

I know what you're thinking, 'Why the heck do you keep having kids if you're already so overwhelmed?'

Here's the thing, contrary to what some of you may think, us Mormons do believe in birth control, my husband and I are just really, really bad at it.

So here I am, pregnant with baby #5 (which, btw, looks like it is another boy, so that makes baby BOY #5), and I literally want to die.

In a bizarre way, it's kinda liberating. For the past several years I'd developed an irrational fear of dying young, but the idea of having a fifth child has taken that fear completely away. Death? Ha! I'm about to have five kids; nothing could be worse than that! lol

The screaming, the crying, the ungratefulness, the crazy amount of poopy diapers of only one of my children is almost more than any human being can take. Multiply that times five, and all I want to do is give birth to this child and then crawl into a hole and come out in thirty years when it's safe (some kids take longer leaving the nest).

I know some women relish motherhood, but I am simply not one of them. It wasn't until my oldest son turned 7 that I could see why people do this at all. Now he can be reasoned with; he doesn't yell at me for making him food; he has unique and interesting thoughts every so often, and most importantly, he doesn't shout at me from the bathroom, "I'm done!" (aka, "Wipe my butt!") in an annoyingly cheerful voice every thirty minutes like the younger ones do.

So there is hope for the future; it just seems so far away. To think I have reset the clock again with this pregnancy and have to wait seven more years before my last child is tolerable is really, well, sucky. But seven years will fly by, and before I know it my oldest two boys will be teenagers, and........nope, I was right. I want to die.