Baby Fever & A Lesson in Letting Go

Just a heads up guys: THIS ONE MIGHT GET LONG, JUMBLED, & INTENSE.

So back in the day, before I was in my mid-twenties, I always saw myself as a mom of two. Then I got pregnant with Emery early on and my pregnancy was NOT pleasant. I was sick well into my seventh month, prescribed medication that caused me to gain weight rapidly in the last two, and was warned that I could have complications giving birth. Then I dilated, and after a rough week somehow closed right back up. Trust me, even my doctor was a little baffled by that last one. I was informed that for the sake of my daughter’s life as well as my own the best course of action would be to induce. So we did. Labor was intense, I remember crying about the pain to my mother as she held my hand, and then Emery made her grand entrance three hours sooner than anyone expected. She was and continues to be perfection. A few months after she was born I was sitting in the living room watching the rain fall outside as I rocked her to sleep, and I felt content. My heart was so full, and I remember thinking, “This is good. One can be enough for us.”

Then life started to pass by. My daughter turned two, and I remember telling my mother, “I wish we weren’t struggling so much. I’d love to have another baby soon.” To which she replied, “Then have another baby. Parents always find a way to make it work. To provide.” But I dismissed her suggestion with a wave. I didn’t want to be irresponsible. You see, at the time I kept thinking, "Well when my husband gets a job maybe then we can expand our family." Or "Well, maybe when we get all of his legal stuff taken care of we'll have some room in our finances to support another child." And not only did we struggle financially then, but my marriage was pretty rocky too. At the same time I was also working, and attending school-- both full-time-- so I felt like I was already stretched pretty thin. So, I didn’t think it was fair to bring another child into so much instability, and uncertainty. Then my daughter turned five. By this time I felt like I had waited too long. One excuse had led to another, and I had missed our shot to give my daughter a sibling close to her age. I couldn’t turn back the clock. With my thirties right around the corner, and a marriage that was deteriorating I would have to be okay with my perfect one & only child. “This is okay. One can be enough for me.”

Last year, when I had my yearly exam I asked my doctor for her professional opinion of me going through with a second pregnancy sometime in the future. We talked about my first only pregnancy, and how my body had handled it. “Well, you went through a pretty bumpy pregnancy your first time. It wasn’t too bad, medically, but that was also when you were in your early twenties. There’s a chance that you could have a completely normal, and even pleasant experience the second time. Or it could be a lot worse. Not just for you, but the baby as well. Now, I’m not telling you what you should or shouldn’t do. But if you want another baby, health wise, I would recommend that you do it sooner rather than later. ” Statistically, the longer I wait the more health problems I could encounter. Not to mention our egg supply decreases as we get older, and miscarriages are more common so the chances of conceiving while also carrying to full term drop significantly. But all of that aside, even if I was really considering doing this, how would I even go about it? As I walked out of the doctor's office that day this news, or technically an opinion, just seemed like another sign to me. Another nail.  “Okay. Well. One child it is then.”

One afternoon back at the end of January I was making my way through the Wal-Mart parking lot all frustrated that I had to make yet another stop before heading home. I was grabbing my list from the passenger's seat when I glanced up to my right, and there she was. Pushing a cart with her two little girls in tow, and a newborn in a car-seat. All smiles as she walked hand in hand with her husband. And I almost threw up. This is not my first encounter with her or with one of them, and it won't be my last. But that day when I saw the smiles; the happiness, the baby. I had a wave of jealousy wash over me that was completely unexpected. I’ve never reacted that way before. I grabbed what I needed, and then I quickly headed back outside into the comfort of my car. I took deep breaths. I turned the music up. And then I cried the entire drive home. That day is when I realized that I was still bitter. Still angry. You see, I did a lot of things "right". I got married, and then I had a baby. I went back to school and got my associates degree. I worked my ass off and provided for my family. I know I'm not completely innocent, and I didn’t make things easy. I know I can be a difficult person to get along with. However, I remained loyal through all of the good, and bad. I did what I was supposed to do. What I was brought up to do. And here was this woman, who had had an affair with my husband two years ago, and she was fucking smiling. She had her two little girls, a husband that held her hand as they walked up to the store, and the newest addition all wrapped up in a blue baby blanket. How could someone like her, who had done such a shitty thing, still get her happy ending? Why couldn’t I, who had done what I was supposed to do, have that? Why did she get everything? Why? Why? Why? Looking back, I’m not proud of the feelings that came over me or the thoughts that raced through my mind. I’m also a bit embarrassed that seeing her made me get really emotional. Though I was about to start my cycle so maybe that had something to do with it? That night after all of the tears were shed I remember standing in the shower reassuring myself that life had a plan. There was something else out there. And maybe having a big family just wasn’t in the cards for me. I’d have to start accepting that and move on, or I’d never be able to be happy. Since that day I’ve seen them again a handful of times, and I haven’t reacted the same way. No tears, no jealousy, or hate. I feel like I finally put that part of my story to rest. “It’s not fair, but that’s okay.”

Flash forward to a few weeks ago when a friend of mine had her baby boy, and I could feel the baby fever washing over me as I held him and changed him. My heart burst with so much joy for her. And she told me, “You can do it you know? You CAN have another one if you want.” I brought up all of the excuses from before, and simply stated that “I’ve run out of time.” You see, I spent so long thinking, "Well when my husband gets a job maybe then we can have another baby." Or "Well, maybe when we get all of his legal stuff taken care of we'll have some room financially to be able to afford having another child." Then it was "Well, maybe once we get passed all of this crap and get our marriage back on track we can expand our family." One year went by, and then five. Before I knew it I was thirty years old, and our situation wasn't any better. My dreams of having another baby just kept slipping farther, and farther away. As I sit here typing this up I can say that having to let go of this dream definitely hurts. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about it. And believe me, there was a month not too long ago when I felt the desperation in such a way that I even entertained the idea of getting pregnant again by my soon-to-be ex-husband. It only would have happened with his consent, of course, I’m not THAT psycho, but I never got up the courage to ask him. Then, I even looked into possibly trying IVF or AI as possible alternatives. Now, I can see how the first of those options was kind of a bad idea especially with everything going on right now.  But the other two, after quite a bit of research, was too costly for me to even consider. So, I gave up."It’s time to let go."

Now, there’s no point in dwelling on this anymore than I already have. There's also no point in allowing the negative aspects to take over how I feel. Being a mom to an only child is just as much a blessing as having a house full of little ones. It’s a bit different, but we love no matter what. We soak up the moments, we kiss scraped knees, and we listen to their future plans of becoming princesses, artists, or even Geologists (her tia is so proud). No matter the size, or shape of our families the most important parts are that we love and that we are present. Recently, after a trip to visit family, she asked me if I were ever going to give her a sibling. This isn’t the first time she's asked me this, but this was the first time she shed a few tears at my answer. You see, for Christmas, she asked Santa for a little brother or sister. Then on the night before her birthday, she asked God “Please, can you make mommy pregnant so I can have a baby brother or sister, and we can grow up to be best friends?” And I think, after all of this time, that’s probably what hurts me the most. Not being able to give her that. I have a brother so I know what friendship she's asking for, and in a way, I know what she's missing out on. So, as we walked down the road hand in hand I explained a little bit about why mommy couldn’t have another baby.  Things were complicated, I was getting older, and sometimes families were small. Afterward, she reached up to hug me and said “It’s okay mommy. It’ll just be me, and you having adventures forever and ever.” I wrapped my arms around her, and held her tight. “You’re absolutely right baby.”

And THAT right there IS enough.

*all of the clipart in this post were found by doing a google search