For a long time, one of my favorite blogs to read has been a little pregnant. I love Julie's sense of humor and, judging from her hundreds of comments on every post, a lot of other people do too. But, more than anything, I enjoy Julie's commentary on infertility.
A while back, she posted about whether she still qualified as being infertile, even though she had given birth to one child and was pregnant with another, both by in-vitro fertilization.
I have to say, yes. I think you are as infertile as you feel. It's a problem I've struggled with for a while, even though I got my official classification after Goober was born.
See, when Nature Boy and I got together, we hadn't totally closed the door on the possibility of having another child. I really wanted to. I knew it probably wouldn't be easy, given that I had a rather difficult pregnancy with the Goober and a host of what those in the polite world would refer to "female trouble," but I really wanted to be pregnant again. I wanted to have another baby, one close in age to Goober, so he could suffer... er, enjoy... having a sibling that could also double as a handy playmate, like I had.
But our practical nature prevailed. We already had three children together. Adding one more to the mix would be expensive, what with the new vehicles we'd have to buy, the bedroom we'd have to add onto the house and throwing in another mouth to feed. Plus, Nature Boy had a vasectomy right after Sam was born, so there was the expense of getting it reversed because insurance sure as hell wouldn't cover that. Plus trying to afford day care for two children? Not bloody likely. We could barely afford to keep Goober under appropriate supervision. So we closed that door and decided to enjoy the offspring we had.
Then came the doctor drama, the horrible ordeal that left me lacking some necessary parts to carry a baby. Heck, I knew it was bad when the doctor was visibly relieved when I told him Nature Boy was fixed.
"Good. That's good," he said, scibbling on his clipboard. "I wouldn't recommend trying to get pregnant anymore."
I was crushed. Even though we didn't plan on any more children, I still liked having the option.
So now I'm really overly sensitive about pregnancy and babies and the like. I admit that I am insanely protective of my kids. Not in the hovering over them and preventing them from ever getting hurt type of overprotective, but the overprotective where I want to know exactly what they're doing all the time - just so I know - and where I want to spend all the time I can with them. I feel guilty for wanting to be by myself sometimes, because I wanted these children so much and I worked so hard to have them. I bring them with me wherever and whenever I can, just to eke out a few precious moments with them.
But I know that I sacrifice a certain degree of sanity for all of this, and that's hard to deal with sometimes. I get exhausted and stressed, trying to juggle a job and mommyhood, and I get migraines and insomnia and depressed. Then I need to take a break and the guilt starts all over again. It's a vicious cycle, I know, and it's one I wish I could stop.
As i talk to other mothers and other women who struggled with infertility, I know I'm not alone, and that helps.
2 comments:
It's me too, this juggling of children and self. I think perhaps we all do it to a certain extent, trying to find the right balance. But it's all so tentative so yes, dig in and hold on now while you can and the rest of life will follow.
There's a grieving that goes with that kind of loss that only those of us who've experienced it ever know or understand. Mine's compounded by knowing the loss of the beloved little girl whom I gave birth to who already was dead was the last chance I'll probably have.I wouldn't wish this sisterhood on anyone — but somehow, there is peace in knowing we are not alone...
Post a Comment