Ever since I returned home from the hospital I have had one looming persistent feeling…..
I can’t have this gaping hole in my heart!
I have literally wanted to have another baby so bad that it consumes a lot of my brain quite often. Bawling at the doctors, bawling in my moms arms, bawling to my best friend. I need to have another baby! I can’t end my childbearing with such a devastating turn of fate.
I can never tell my husband.
So I went through each day wondering……
I also went through each time between periods wondering if maybe this time I wont have my cycle and then I can …..
I have gone through about 5 pregnancy tests since December. Every time swearing that the tickles in my tummy must be flutters of life. Always wrong. Then I am always sad that I was not. ….And always relieved that I was not. See, I don’t really want to have anymore children. I don’t want to go through losing another child.
At this point I am really just waiting for the ball to drop again.
I literally could not handle it. I keep saying that. And yet more just keeps oozing out all over the place. I think of where I am emotionally and sometimes I feel that a successful birth would just fix everything. Of course I know that is not really the case nor outcome, but I still hoped for that release, a sort of relief. To claim victory and say, no! it wasn’t my fault! I guess it doesn’t matter that I have delivered the same natural way three times and all was well and beautiful. Somehow I am still to blame. I get it. Or not. Either way, I will never know and the substantial sadness that encircles all of every aspect of my life will consume any attempt to change it otherwise.
So I have lost my baby.
My husband told me almost right away (maybe more..but my time frame of reference is off for the first few months), he was going to get a vasectomy. We had been talking about it in the past, while I was pregnant. We had decided that no matter what we were done having children. The midwife told us to hold off because….
Well we encountered that because.
When he told me that he was going to go in, I was devastated. I couldn’t even fathom having that option taken away from me. It killed me over and over. And again, it is not that I even really wanted anymore kids, but I couldn’t determine that I had a legitimate solid stance at that point. I just knew I was in pain and needed to know that there was still an option to somehow bring happiness back to a journey that headed to hell quick. Then, he did not end up going in.
We never talked about it again. Really talk about it.
I must have assumed that he felt the same way I did and if I got pregnant then I would be “secretly” happy about it. I yearned for it as much as I dreaded it. He deserves kudos for that. I see that he put aside his fear and pain for me, the opportunity for happy little accidents (that would also ultimately be burdened the whole time by a taunting and dancing of the truth. Death is possible).
But truly, I am so stressed out all the time that there is no way that I could ever really want to bring another baby into this world. I constantly disappoint myself in motherhood as it is that I didn’t want to have to ruin another individuals outlook on life.
Ok enough sap, but seriously, couldn’t even fathom another child. And then I get super sad thinking about losing her all over again. It is endless.
I started deciding to myself a couple of months ago and seriously within the last few weeks about getting my tubes tied. With how my life is, my relationship with my husband had been for the last several months…. Things were spiraling out of control. I knew without a doubt that I could nothave any more littles, and that killed me.
My husband and I recently separated. I hadn’t had my period yet. So the whole time I kept wondering… talking my body into it and then psyching myself out of it, as if that even mattered. I also have stomach issues that cause nausea often which mimics “morning sickness” in my body… and…. again, semi secretly negotiating with my body that I was pregnant. That would mean that we HAD to work and everything would end up in rainbows and rainbow babies…
I lost my daughter. I lost hope. I have lost my husband. I lost hope. I again, was not pregnant, and again, lost hope of whatever twisted ideals are inside my brain of what I think my life should have been like. He still wants to quash the abilities to reproduce, as do I, and again, I die a little inside.
A thought… I wonder how much more of me there is left to…. essentially die …?
But die I do not.
I rise over and over.
My beautiful living children now need me more than ever. Their lives literally depend on it. I couldn’t allow them to endure any of what might happen, so losing another sibling…. Not even going to risk it. But that hurts. And somehow I have to keep in perspective that maybe a little pain might be better than a lot of pain, which will again happen.
I guess the only thing that really comes out of this -end of childbearing realization- is that I feel like I can’t raise anymore children in addition to the blessings I have because it is not fair to bring another little love into such a place of pain and hate. There is not enough love in our buckets anymore. That hurts.