Some time ago, I posted about being in a place of peace. I said I was ok with being done having kids and that I had come to terms with the fact that Bethany and Audrey were the only kidlets I’d birth. They are wonderful little girls and on most days (today aside maybe) they are a joy to raise (I love them, I love raising them, there are just a few days that lack “joy”).
Somewhere between that post and now, that peace has been flushed down the toilet.
I think it stems from the fact that I’m largely indecisive and I tend to over think things slightly (and when I say slightly I mean, I think them through until they are shredding into a tiny pile in the recesses of my brain). The other part of it, is that I love my kids with such reckless abandon and they fill my heart with so much love, joy and frustration laughter that the idea of having more of them running around is a happy one.
But it’s not just as easy as saying I want more kids, throwing away a green package of tiny, miracle pills and then wait for my uterus to do what it does best (after a little somethin’ somthin’ of course, so Corey doesn’t feel left out). Life’s just not that simple.
Corey’s not so sure he wants to have more. It’s not that he doesn’t love the girls and want more kids, because he does both love them and want more. The problem is, he doesn’t want to face what 10 months of me pregnant can possibly bring. Stop laughing, I don’t mean the emotional and teary me, I mean the physical things that come with pregnancy in this ol’ body.
The surgery I had a few months ago to cut the scar tissue and fix the problems I’ve had since I was pregnant with Bethany didn’t work quite as well as we’d all hoped. I’m still waiting to get down to see yet another specialist (which is taking a particularly long time due to some scheduling issues) to see if this pain and these problems can be fixed or if it’s something I have to live the rest of my life with. The surgery, did do some to help, but it didn’t cure everything. I still have times and days that I suffer greatly and nights where I lay away waiting for it to stop. If they can’t come up with a reason and a solution to the problem, we probably won’t ever attempt pregnancy again, because it’s just too much to live through again, for everyone.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful for the relief that I did get, and the good days are so sweet because they are days I don’t think about it and for that I’m so thankful. And it’s those good days that make me wonder, “Could I do it again?” And I wonder, I dream and I do one of the things I do very best – I worry.
It’s not just the pain portion of things that concerns me, my inner insecure girl afraid too. She’s screaming “NO! Don’t make me face that weight gain and the inevitable weight loss”. I’m in the best place I’ve ever been, physically, and while I’m not satisfied with myself, I’m less unhappy about me than I used to be. Pregnancy kind of wrecks that, at least for me and leaves me feeling fat (the BIG “F” word is generally forbidden in this house but for this post it’s coming out of the closet) and ugly.
I’m not super confident in myself on a regular basis, and while pregnant I can even swallow the weight gain because, well there’s a baby in there but the days that follow, leave me sad and haunted. They make me face the scale with trepidation and I don’t know if I want to do that again. It took me a long time to lose the weight and then some from Audrey and don’t know if I want to go through that again.
Then, if that weren’t all dramatic enough, I also worry about the change to our family dynamic. I’ve secretly been watching the people in our lives who are having their third, gauging if we can face that or not. It may not be the most effective method, but hey, it’s what I’ve got right now. I know that we’d make it work, and the kids would adjust and any baby that came into our home would be exactly who and what was meant for us. But the thought of it can be a little much, especially when your imagination tends to run wild.
I wish I knew for sure what I wanted. I wish I knew for sure what we are going to do, but I don’t. I just wish, more than anything, my heart didn’t ache so much for another baby, another toddler, another little kid. I wish the little girls I have weren’t growing so fast, I wish I could capture the moments and hold them forever, I wish, I wish, I wish.
But wishing doesn’t get me anywhere, and it doesn’t give me any answers. What I do know, is that Corey won’t even entertain the idea until we know what the scoop is. What I do know is that I need to be sure before I decide and what I do know, is that while I am aging, I’m not old and I still have time. So for now, I’m going to soak up and enjoy every second I can with the little girls I have (even when they make me want to scream!) and I’m going to wait, impatiently. Because wait is all I can do, and maybe as the time passes, peace will once again come, one way or another, it has to come.
So, tell me are you happy with your family dynamic? Do you plan to have more? Wish you had more? Or are you totally and completely content with where you are?