The twins are turning two, and they are weaning. They nurse once a day or once every other day still, and I think I'll make it to my goal of two years and then as long as they want to after that, but just barely. They will be two on the 12th. I have been pregnant or breastfeeding for 10 years with only a small break between child 2 and 3.
A few months ago, I decided that we should have another baby. I always wanted 6, when I was growing up, and I got it in my head that 6 was "supposed to be" my number.
When I brought it up to my husband though, reality hit me like a glass of ice water to the face. His responded with horror at the thought of another baby. He said that he wants me to be happy and that if that's the only thing that would make me happy, he would do it, but then he'd go shoot himself because I'd need the insurance money and he's already walking a tightrope and feels like he could fall over at any moment. He said he can't imagine adding "one more thing" to his load.
This was a wake up call to me. I realized that day that my reproductive career is over. There will be no more babies for me. No more maternity clothes, no more baby showers, no more feeling something wonderful and yet alien inside of my body. No more tiny little clothes, no more silly little newborn faces, no more soft fuzzy scalps to kiss and smell. No more soft little bundles to cuddle and hold, no one who would rather be snuggled into my arm than any where else in the world. No more brand new lives, no more welcoming a new soul into the world.
I spent that day crying, and I told my husband that I would be okay. "I just need to mourn this..." I said, "I will be okay, you're totally right, I agree with you, but I can't just move past it without facing my feelings because I'll never get over it if I do." So I did, I thought.
I reminded my self that we can't afford another baby anyway. I thought of the kids that we have already and how torn I am sometimes when they all need something from me at once. I thought of the moments when I am overwhelmed and impatient and how I can snap at them and how I feel like the worst person in the world when I am not a good mother to my children. I thought of getting fat again, morning sickness, "what if we had twins again?", how would we fit another baby into our tiny house?
Most of all I realized that it would be selfish to have another baby. I wanted another baby for ME. I wasn't thinking of my husband or my children or even the new baby. I was thinking about myself and how I feel. I thought of how I would feel when the "new" baby was older, wouldn't I just want another baby then too?
I realized that having another baby would be wrong, and all it would do is delay the inevitable. My children are growing up, it's going to happen sooner or later, whether I have five or whether I have 20, one day I'm going to have to face these feelings.
For a while I was okay with that. Now I'm not. Now that the twins are weaning I feel like I'm going straight from mother to crone, and I don't want to be a crone. I don't want to say good bye to this chapter of my life. I'm sad, and I am scared.
I feel my attention slipping from things that I was passionate about, births, breastfeeding, the benefits of babywearing and co-sleeping, and I don't know what's going to replace those things. I used to love watching "A Wedding Story" before I had my own wedding, and now I hate it. I used to love watching "A Baby Story" and chatting about breastfeeding and attachment parenting and now I can't generate the energy to answer people's questions about them.
Fine, I tell myself...That's totally normal. But now I feel empty and I don't know what to fill those spaces with. If I'm not a mother (and logically I know that I still am a mother, but in my heart I feel like it's ending) then what am I? I feel like I'm nothing.
I know that I have to deal with these feelings, to find a way to get past them and move on. I don't want to be a needy mom, who needs her children to love her and like her and be her friend, my kids don't deserve that. I want to have a good sense of my own identity so they don't feel like they can't grow up and move on with their own lives. I want to have outside interests and be a good example for them of a whole, healthy person.
I just don't know how to do that.
My best friend since I was 13 called me this morning and she asked me what my life's purpose was, outside of motherhood, and I tried to think of something and my mind was blank. She said, "Oh, you are just being silly, because I even know that your passion is music..." and it's true, but it doesn't feel like that right now. My husband says the same thing and he bought me a new thing to record on and is buying me a new guitar, and I DO love music and I do miss music, but it seems so tiny compared to what I feel like I am losing. So I dismiss music in my mind, I'm out of practice and don't have any skill left over, I think. How can music be someone's purpose or passion, in adulthood? Doesn't EVERYONE want to grow up and be a musician? Of course that would be amazing, but it's a fantasy and not going to do me any good, in real life, to invest my energy in something so frivolous.
Then I have a creeping suspicion that I'm being like the character in a movie who is just so stubborn and they can't see the forest for the trees and you want to scream at them, "Just go out with that guy!" or "Just take the money, you need it!" or "Don't go down those dark stairs you freaking idiot!" I mean, honestly, did I just call music, something that I think is amazingly powerful and inspiring and NECESSARY for the world to be a good place, frivolous? That can't be the real me. It must be my fear talking.
When I think of the future, I don't look forward to anything, all I see is what I'm letting go of, and it feels like goodness beyond compare. I don't know how to move forward and be happy. I'm just afraid of what is coming and see myself being more and more alone and sad, and old.
A few months ago, I decided that we should have another baby. I always wanted 6, when I was growing up, and I got it in my head that 6 was "supposed to be" my number.
When I brought it up to my husband though, reality hit me like a glass of ice water to the face. His responded with horror at the thought of another baby. He said that he wants me to be happy and that if that's the only thing that would make me happy, he would do it, but then he'd go shoot himself because I'd need the insurance money and he's already walking a tightrope and feels like he could fall over at any moment. He said he can't imagine adding "one more thing" to his load.
This was a wake up call to me. I realized that day that my reproductive career is over. There will be no more babies for me. No more maternity clothes, no more baby showers, no more feeling something wonderful and yet alien inside of my body. No more tiny little clothes, no more silly little newborn faces, no more soft fuzzy scalps to kiss and smell. No more soft little bundles to cuddle and hold, no one who would rather be snuggled into my arm than any where else in the world. No more brand new lives, no more welcoming a new soul into the world.
I spent that day crying, and I told my husband that I would be okay. "I just need to mourn this..." I said, "I will be okay, you're totally right, I agree with you, but I can't just move past it without facing my feelings because I'll never get over it if I do." So I did, I thought.
I reminded my self that we can't afford another baby anyway. I thought of the kids that we have already and how torn I am sometimes when they all need something from me at once. I thought of the moments when I am overwhelmed and impatient and how I can snap at them and how I feel like the worst person in the world when I am not a good mother to my children. I thought of getting fat again, morning sickness, "what if we had twins again?", how would we fit another baby into our tiny house?
Most of all I realized that it would be selfish to have another baby. I wanted another baby for ME. I wasn't thinking of my husband or my children or even the new baby. I was thinking about myself and how I feel. I thought of how I would feel when the "new" baby was older, wouldn't I just want another baby then too?
I realized that having another baby would be wrong, and all it would do is delay the inevitable. My children are growing up, it's going to happen sooner or later, whether I have five or whether I have 20, one day I'm going to have to face these feelings.
For a while I was okay with that. Now I'm not. Now that the twins are weaning I feel like I'm going straight from mother to crone, and I don't want to be a crone. I don't want to say good bye to this chapter of my life. I'm sad, and I am scared.
I feel my attention slipping from things that I was passionate about, births, breastfeeding, the benefits of babywearing and co-sleeping, and I don't know what's going to replace those things. I used to love watching "A Wedding Story" before I had my own wedding, and now I hate it. I used to love watching "A Baby Story" and chatting about breastfeeding and attachment parenting and now I can't generate the energy to answer people's questions about them.
Fine, I tell myself...That's totally normal. But now I feel empty and I don't know what to fill those spaces with. If I'm not a mother (and logically I know that I still am a mother, but in my heart I feel like it's ending) then what am I? I feel like I'm nothing.
I know that I have to deal with these feelings, to find a way to get past them and move on. I don't want to be a needy mom, who needs her children to love her and like her and be her friend, my kids don't deserve that. I want to have a good sense of my own identity so they don't feel like they can't grow up and move on with their own lives. I want to have outside interests and be a good example for them of a whole, healthy person.
I just don't know how to do that.
My best friend since I was 13 called me this morning and she asked me what my life's purpose was, outside of motherhood, and I tried to think of something and my mind was blank. She said, "Oh, you are just being silly, because I even know that your passion is music..." and it's true, but it doesn't feel like that right now. My husband says the same thing and he bought me a new thing to record on and is buying me a new guitar, and I DO love music and I do miss music, but it seems so tiny compared to what I feel like I am losing. So I dismiss music in my mind, I'm out of practice and don't have any skill left over, I think. How can music be someone's purpose or passion, in adulthood? Doesn't EVERYONE want to grow up and be a musician? Of course that would be amazing, but it's a fantasy and not going to do me any good, in real life, to invest my energy in something so frivolous.
Then I have a creeping suspicion that I'm being like the character in a movie who is just so stubborn and they can't see the forest for the trees and you want to scream at them, "Just go out with that guy!" or "Just take the money, you need it!" or "Don't go down those dark stairs you freaking idiot!" I mean, honestly, did I just call music, something that I think is amazingly powerful and inspiring and NECESSARY for the world to be a good place, frivolous? That can't be the real me. It must be my fear talking.
When I think of the future, I don't look forward to anything, all I see is what I'm letting go of, and it feels like goodness beyond compare. I don't know how to move forward and be happy. I'm just afraid of what is coming and see myself being more and more alone and sad, and old.
Sun Mar 17, 2013 3:17 am by Chris
» NEW ADDRESS: http://conversationchamber.ipbhost.com/
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» New project
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» White smoke signals cardinals have selected a new pope
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» Do You Look Like a Celebrity?
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