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?