One hundred and eighty degrees
Sorry it's been a while since I've posted...I've been in bed with a stomach flu that has now passed on to Lizzy. I'm not sure, at this point, which is more dangerous...the flu itself, or the absurd amount of Lysol I've been spraying on everything. God I hate stomach viruses. Puke is my worst nightmare. And I'm stuck in hell with this thing festering, waiting to strike the next member of my family. I hate puke, I hate puking, I hate cleaning puke off of beds, jammies and little kids. I despise everything about it. Not unlike all of you, I know...but I just absolutely hate it.
Prior to the flu from hell striking with brute force, I had been coming unglued. Like the days of old...hormonal, crying, panicky, just a general mess. Pondering a million different issues, and not knowing what was at the root of my whirlwind head. And since it is me, and I like to make things as unmanageable as possible, doesn't it make total sense that I would seize this time of emotional instability to enter, with Pete, into a discussion about the future of our family and whether or not we will have more children?
What the hell is wrong with me???????
I do this now? Last Friday night, to be exact. When I am a total emotional wreck, just having been told that Lizzy needs tubes for her ears, which will make this the seventh surgery I've endured with my children in my experience as a mother. Not to mention being totally stuck, mentally, in "last year at this time" mode, reliving every moment leading up to Lizzy's premature birth and subsequent removal from my presence for the first two months of her life. Her first birthday is on December 21, right around the corner, also the first day of winter, the same day that Pete and I got engaged, and she will be baptized on that day. I'm in the process of sending out the invites to her party, and asking people to please bring an ornament to hang on our "Lizzy Tree" so that she has ornaments of her own. All of these things, all added one on top of another, have put me in the aforementioned place of emotional wreckage. Yep, sounds like a great time to sit down and make some life-changing decisions. So why not talk about the future of my uterus and its usefulness right now? Seems as insane a time as any to do such a thing, and it wouldn't be me if I waited. So let's pile as much on as possible to make sure that when I finally go to Crazy, I go there with designer luggage and a lifetime pass.
The ironic (if that's even the right word, impressive vocabulary escapes me now) thing is that when we had our talk, I made such logical, convincing, frighteningly rational arguments for "calling it a day" in the baby-making department, I don't think I could ever turn around and change my mind. Up until last week, I saw no definite end in sight to my wanting to have at least one more baby. I even blogged about it for heaven's sake -- very recently. But then, a lightning bolt hit me on Friday and I suddenly wanted to move past this phase...and was rendered paralyzed with fear about the possibility of having another baby with problems like Lizzy. So I asked him for "the talk." I made so much sense...and Pete was so relieved to hear me making sense. He's always really practical. It's annoying. I'm always really emotional, and make bad decisions because of it. It's annoying, too. But when we talked on Friday, we were on the same page. And now it really seems that the decision has been made to be done and move ahead with our lives from this point and get out of baby mode forever.
That is sort of scaring the ever-living shit out of me. Because if I'm not having babies, then what do I do? Go to work? Get a job? Doing what? I quit student teaching, so I don't have a teaching certificate from my undergrad degree. I quit law school, so I don't have a J.D. Having babies and staying home with them is the only thing that I've ever done and not given up on and been a little bit good at. I've always been a quitter...until I had babies.
I guess this is just one of many soul-searching, existential questions we happen upon in life. And what am I so drama about, anyway? I have three kids. Three. It's not like they won't need me anymore, like I'll stop being their mom and having a gazillion things to do with and for them, just because I'm not adding anymore of them to the house. Lord knows, my plate is full. Three children is a lot to keep up with...and the more you have, the harder it is to truly keep up with them. To tune into each one, to make sure that you are hearing their voices and all things, big and little, that they are trying to tell you. But as I've talked about before, it's hard for me to think about never having another chance to give birth, and never having another chance to nurse a baby. To know that I will never be pregnant again, never go for another ultrasound, never hear a heart beating inside my body that is not my own. These reasons do not make a strong, logical argument for child-bearing. At all. And this much I know to be true. But they do remain, and it's been hard to let them go and ignore them. Until Friday, when I realized all those reasons are about me. And nothing more.
I guess what it boils down to, and what my epiphany is ultimately all about is that I gave birth to a baby with a life-threatening birth defect...and no one knows why it happened or what I might be able to do to prevent it from happening again. How could I ever go through another pregnancy with the expectation of happiness and enjoyment, knowing that I would be a nervous wreck the entire time, so afraid that something terrible would happen again? And how could I live in that state of fear and expect that I could be a good mother to the three who are here, needing me so very, very much? Not to mention being totally unable to focus on my relationship with Pete, which has always been the root system to this family.
And so, with that one hundred and eighty degree turn, I believe we may have officially closed another chapter in our lives together, and opened the next one. I'm not sad. I'm not unsure (today) or wavering. I'm even a little bit excited to get to know me as me, and not as everyone elses "something" or "someone." It's so easy to lose our identities while we mother and keep house. And while it is the most rewarding experience, there are other experiences out there waiting for me. Continuing to travel along this path to find out what's in store us the point of it all...and I'm actually excited to see what else life has in store for me. It hasn't disappointed up to this point. I don't think it will start doing so now.
Prior to the flu from hell striking with brute force, I had been coming unglued. Like the days of old...hormonal, crying, panicky, just a general mess. Pondering a million different issues, and not knowing what was at the root of my whirlwind head. And since it is me, and I like to make things as unmanageable as possible, doesn't it make total sense that I would seize this time of emotional instability to enter, with Pete, into a discussion about the future of our family and whether or not we will have more children?
What the hell is wrong with me???????
I do this now? Last Friday night, to be exact. When I am a total emotional wreck, just having been told that Lizzy needs tubes for her ears, which will make this the seventh surgery I've endured with my children in my experience as a mother. Not to mention being totally stuck, mentally, in "last year at this time" mode, reliving every moment leading up to Lizzy's premature birth and subsequent removal from my presence for the first two months of her life. Her first birthday is on December 21, right around the corner, also the first day of winter, the same day that Pete and I got engaged, and she will be baptized on that day. I'm in the process of sending out the invites to her party, and asking people to please bring an ornament to hang on our "Lizzy Tree" so that she has ornaments of her own. All of these things, all added one on top of another, have put me in the aforementioned place of emotional wreckage. Yep, sounds like a great time to sit down and make some life-changing decisions. So why not talk about the future of my uterus and its usefulness right now? Seems as insane a time as any to do such a thing, and it wouldn't be me if I waited. So let's pile as much on as possible to make sure that when I finally go to Crazy, I go there with designer luggage and a lifetime pass.
The ironic (if that's even the right word, impressive vocabulary escapes me now) thing is that when we had our talk, I made such logical, convincing, frighteningly rational arguments for "calling it a day" in the baby-making department, I don't think I could ever turn around and change my mind. Up until last week, I saw no definite end in sight to my wanting to have at least one more baby. I even blogged about it for heaven's sake -- very recently. But then, a lightning bolt hit me on Friday and I suddenly wanted to move past this phase...and was rendered paralyzed with fear about the possibility of having another baby with problems like Lizzy. So I asked him for "the talk." I made so much sense...and Pete was so relieved to hear me making sense. He's always really practical. It's annoying. I'm always really emotional, and make bad decisions because of it. It's annoying, too. But when we talked on Friday, we were on the same page. And now it really seems that the decision has been made to be done and move ahead with our lives from this point and get out of baby mode forever.
That is sort of scaring the ever-living shit out of me. Because if I'm not having babies, then what do I do? Go to work? Get a job? Doing what? I quit student teaching, so I don't have a teaching certificate from my undergrad degree. I quit law school, so I don't have a J.D. Having babies and staying home with them is the only thing that I've ever done and not given up on and been a little bit good at. I've always been a quitter...until I had babies.
I guess this is just one of many soul-searching, existential questions we happen upon in life. And what am I so drama about, anyway? I have three kids. Three. It's not like they won't need me anymore, like I'll stop being their mom and having a gazillion things to do with and for them, just because I'm not adding anymore of them to the house. Lord knows, my plate is full. Three children is a lot to keep up with...and the more you have, the harder it is to truly keep up with them. To tune into each one, to make sure that you are hearing their voices and all things, big and little, that they are trying to tell you. But as I've talked about before, it's hard for me to think about never having another chance to give birth, and never having another chance to nurse a baby. To know that I will never be pregnant again, never go for another ultrasound, never hear a heart beating inside my body that is not my own. These reasons do not make a strong, logical argument for child-bearing. At all. And this much I know to be true. But they do remain, and it's been hard to let them go and ignore them. Until Friday, when I realized all those reasons are about me. And nothing more.
I guess what it boils down to, and what my epiphany is ultimately all about is that I gave birth to a baby with a life-threatening birth defect...and no one knows why it happened or what I might be able to do to prevent it from happening again. How could I ever go through another pregnancy with the expectation of happiness and enjoyment, knowing that I would be a nervous wreck the entire time, so afraid that something terrible would happen again? And how could I live in that state of fear and expect that I could be a good mother to the three who are here, needing me so very, very much? Not to mention being totally unable to focus on my relationship with Pete, which has always been the root system to this family.
And so, with that one hundred and eighty degree turn, I believe we may have officially closed another chapter in our lives together, and opened the next one. I'm not sad. I'm not unsure (today) or wavering. I'm even a little bit excited to get to know me as me, and not as everyone elses "something" or "someone." It's so easy to lose our identities while we mother and keep house. And while it is the most rewarding experience, there are other experiences out there waiting for me. Continuing to travel along this path to find out what's in store us the point of it all...and I'm actually excited to see what else life has in store for me. It hasn't disappointed up to this point. I don't think it will start doing so now.
posted by Kate @ 2:51 PM
1 Comments:
At November 19, 2008 at 3:32 PM ,
Anonymous said...
there it is in print for the world to see! you can not change your mind again... now on to bigger plans.. you really didn't like the idea of being my clown for photoshoots?
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