When I was thirteen weeks pregnant with Emersyn I decided I was going to get my tubes tied when I had my scheduled cesarean. By that point I had experienced four pregnancy losses and two anxiety ridden pregnancies, I knew I couldn’t put myself – and more importantly, my children – through another anxiety filled nine months or the heartbreak and depression that comes with a loss. The high risk ob I was seeing (due to my epilepsy) was very hesitant to do this – telling me I was young and I might ‘meet someone’ and want more babies – because she clearly knew me better than I knew myself. I stood my ground and when she asked me moments after I heard Emersyn crying for the first time, if I still wanted my tubes tied, I confidently told her yes.
And I did want them done. I knew there were no more babies in my future, that there were no more pregnancies in my future. I had two healthy children and that was enough for me.
Four and a half years on I am still 100% confident in my decision – but sometimes the knowledge I won’t add to my family can be a little overwhelming – and upsetting.
As little girls we dream of the day we will have our own babies. As teenagers we try to do what we can to prevent that happening. Then we reach the exciting, much anticipated time of our lives when we can throw away the birth control and make those baby dreams a reality. We dream about what our babies will look like, begin compiling lists of names, pay attention to the latest in baby related furniture and on-the-go equipment, from the first day of our period we are buzzing with excitement because this month might be the month.
You have your baby. Maybe you have another one. Maybe you have three or four more. Maybe more.
Then you decide you are done. No more babies. No more pregnancies. That part of your life is over.
The metaphorical tumbleweeds tumble past and there are echos.
Just like that a huge part of your life is over.
So long as the decision was made because it was really what you wanted you move on with your life. You take great joy out of the child or children you have, they grow, they change, they become their own little person – and then their own big person – they amaze you, your heart bursts with love on a daily basis. Life is GOOD.
That is how my life is 99% of the time. I love watching our children growing up and seeing how they change in the space of a year. I love being able to take them places and do things that I know they will enjoy or appreciate now they are a little older. I like that they sleep through the night, that there are no 2, 3, 4, 5am nappy changes, I like that I don’t have to sit like a zombie and feed a baby when I really need to be sleeping. I like that they are becoming more independent the older they get. I love seeing what they accomplish, all the new milestones they reach – especially at school – reading, spelling, doing times tables, representing their school in sports.
Everyday there is another reason to be proud of the four fantastic children we are raising.
But sometimes something switches in my brain and I feel sad that there won’t be anymore babies, that there won’t be another baby bump, that there won’t be the excited anticipation that comes with pregnancy. Will it be a boy or a girl? How big will he or she be? Who will he or she look like? What will he or she look like? What will the birth be like? Will she or he be a good sleeper? What about a good eater? When will he or she start sleeping through? Get his or her first teeth? Crawl? Walk?
When my brain makes that switch I find it very hard to look at pregnant women or to look at newborns. Each little baby I see when my brain is in this stage is like a knife through the heart. I start to mourn the little boy or girl who won’t be entering our lives, I grieve for the pregnancy that could have started but never did. I yearn for those first days with a new baby, I dream about experiencing all the firsts again; the first smile, the first laugh, the first time rolling over, the first time they get on their hands and knees, the first time they crawl, walk, talk.
It’s a confusing thing. Deep down you know you are happy with the way things are, that you don’t really want another baby… but another part of you remembers all the lovely things that come with having a new baby, a new little member to your family. You know the joy they bring, the awe you feel when you look at them, the way they continue to surprise you and surpass all your expectations.
Nothing prepares you for the myriad of emotions that come after the decision to not have anymore children or the fact these emotions can sneak up on you years later and unexpectedly. A walk past the baby section of a store can be full of ‘aw, how cute!’ one day and a painful pang of sorrow the next… sometimes it is just too damn hard to walk past that section of the store. It’s the same with babies, one day you see a tiny baby and again it’s a case of ‘awwwww, how cute!’, the next day the sight of the same baby brings tears to your eyes and you have to look away.
I know we are done having babies. I know we are both happy with that decision and know it’s right for us… but sometimes that part of the brain we have no control over switches and our maternal instincts go into overdrive. Perhaps it’s evolutionary, perhaps it’s just another of the joys of being a woman; either way I hope that at some point along the way that switch in my brain stops flicking.
Emma Knits 