A Meandering Sadness

I feel sad. Sometimes, I feel relieved. Other times, angry. Often, empty. But, mostly... just sad.

Sad. We have decided not to have anymore children and I am grieving. An incredibly monumental decision for me, as I have wanted a large family with lots of children for as long as I can remember, and for most of my life have struggled with infertility. I am incredibly lucky to have three beautiful children and perhaps I should simply be happy with what I have. Yet, I am so in love with my children and crave the magic and wonder of the other "little people" that have yet to stir in my womb.

Relieved. Pregnancy has never been easy for me - diabetes, insulin resistance, high blood pressure, being overweight, etc. With bedrest and hospitalizations, pregnancy has never been easy for my husband either. I am tired some days, very tired, and it's a relief to think that I don't have to worry about an unborn child's health and well-being, whether we'll make it to term, if I'm doing all that I can to ensure a healthy baby, and trying to take extra-special care of myself. I am 36 years old and in some ways, I feel like I'm too old to be bearing babies. I know women have had children well into their 40's (or even later in life) but I don't want to be one of those women. It's exciting to think about all the other things I can do in life now that I no longer have to put things on hold to have more children.

Angry. I want more kids, dammit. We make such beautiful babies and why shouldn't we have another one? If we're this blessed already, who's to say that another child won't bless us even more? I acknowledge that my husband is scared... he thinks I am too old, that we're simply playing Russian Roulette and tempting fate to have another one, that my health is too poor, that I'll die and leave him a single dad raising four kids. But, it's my body and I think I know my body better than anyone and I'm telling you that my body can handle another pregnancy. I am angry that he doesn't share the same dreams I do, that I am being robbed of this one.

Empty. While cleaning the house this week and sorting out belongings we no longer need, I struggled with some of the "baby things" I came across. My breast pump that allowed me to feed and nurture my two boys, baby bottles, bibs, baby clothes my daughter wore, and toys that my youngest son has outgrown. If we have no more children, it is pointless to keep all these things. They'll never be used, they'll never be needed. What's the point of keeping them? As I packed them in boxes to be sold or given away, I felt an overwhelming emptiness come over me like a bottomless, dark pit in my heart.

Sad. And we're back to sadness once again. My therapist tells me that I simply need to allow myself time to grieve -- grieve the loss of my unborn children. I know she's right and that it will simply take some time to work through my feelings and that I'm right in the midst of a really ugly place at the moment. This, too, shall pass... isn't that what they say? Until then, I will continue to shed my tears and try to let go of my children that have yet to be. I ache for you, my babies.