Tuesday, June 11, 2013

When what you have could be enough

I picked my son up this morning, squeezed him tight and told him I loved him. We were playing on the bed and in between his shrieks of excitement and lusty laughs I would cuddle him close, his legs wrapped tightly around my middle, his arms around my neck. We lingered on a hug, his sweet face next to mine and in his little three year old voice he chirped "Mommy, I love you too." I gave him a kiss on his round flushed cheek and we continued to play.
Lately my mind has been ruminating and agonizing over the question of whether or not to have another child. Right after loosing our daughter at 22 weeks, my reaction was an instant and decisive no, I could not imagine allowing that possibility to ever happen again, my woman parts were officially closed for business. I thought for a while that her death was a sign from the universe and I shouldn't tempt fate, like someone was whispering in my ear "you have one healthy child, don't get greedy." A couple months after Lily's death, around her July due date, that idea to try again began to take root. It seemed a simple question on par with "would you like dressing or no dressing on your salad? Should we have another baby now, or wait a bit later?" I didn't let my ovaries take over. I suspected this was a reaction to my feeling like I was denied something and wanting to make that emptiness whole again. I wanted to say "fuck you, universe or whatever divine intervention has caused this" but having another baby out of revenge was not the answer. I sat with my desires, I took a class, I had beers with my husband and played with my son in the warm summer sun. The leaves turned from green to yellow and finally orange and red. The trees sat naked in the frigid temps of winter, until finally robins appeared and my winter boots were put back in the closet. My desire for another baby had hibernated along with the rest of Minnesota that winter. I sit waiting now, for the answer, and the question I ask myself everyday is "do I want another child and will I regret it if I decide to let my son grow up with out a sibling?" After dealing with depression during both of my pregnancies I am faced with the very real fact that the dark fog would return, only heavier and darker next time. Am I selfish for only considering myself and my own well being? Sometimes it seems that way and I know that only I can make the right decision for me. I see women bowled over with joy while pregnant and I find myself trying to figure out why I can't seem to conjure up that emotion for myself. This may be the universe's way of saying i'm not ready yet, but I still am holding out hope that when I know, I will know, regardless of if I end up with another baby or not.

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