Mood: Hyper (my coffee
must have been strong today) and Irritated (why oh why does the housekeeper
feel the need to come at a different time everyday and be here when I have to
pick up my youngest from the bus stop???)
Listening to: Dude Looks Like a Lady - Aerosmith
I’m not sure if I’ve harped on
this enough on the Internets, but my own personal Waterloo is pregnancy. Namely
the fact that I would do many, many unsightly things in order to be able to
have another baby. And I’m not talking about the unsightly things that happen
in order to create a baby. Ahem.
Unfortunately, Daddy G has decided that he’s
done having babies in the house and it is time to move on to the next phase of
our lives. I don’t recall ever agreeing to this decision, but I suppose it is
what it is. I have been trying to make my peace with the fact that my uterus is
no longer needed for procreation. It has been a surprisingly hard path for me.
I’m usually pretty good at taking life as it comes and making the best of the
situation that I’m in. For some reason, this issue has been pretty hard for me
to accept for what it is and move on.
My husband’s cousin is pregnant
with her first baby. I won’t mention the sex of the baby since we have some
family drama going on about certain parties wanting to know what it is and
certain parties not wanting to know.
It’s complicated. While I’m over the moon thrilled for her, I could almost feel
my heart being ripped out of my chest as she asked for any advice I had to give
and what stuff was essential to buy
for the baby. It’s been almost 5 years
since I walked into my house the first time with my youngest baby. It has been
a long time folks. Yet it still felt
like a sucker punch to the gut, having to see her pregnant (thanks a lot
Skype!) and talk about why a newborn needs a fingernail clippers. That same
sucker punch that got me when we moved here and got rid of all the baby
clothes, a different cousin had her third son, and just about every damn time I
see a brand new baby that I have to suppress the urge to squish because it’s so
cute.
Folks, I’m not sure how to just
calm down and let this go. I don’t want to be bitter about it (although I definitely
do not agree to the way this decision
was reached) and I definitely need to get over the sucker punch feeling that
comes with realizing that I will never have that again every time I see it and
am reminded. I don’t want to wince every time Daddy G makes a joke that our
girls are getting too big and maybe we should just have another baby. I hate
this because it seems tremendously cruel to me, but I don’t think he really
even gets it. I want to be able to come to terms with the situation and how it
is and make my peace with it.
Anyone deal with this? If so, how
did you manage?
