I know it's pathetic, but I am depressed. I threw all my left-over "lady products" in the trash this week. It finally dawned on me that I won't be needing that stuff anymore. I should be thrilled, right? No more spending a fortune each month on giant maxi pads. No more last minute, panicky trips to the drugstore. Never another cramp. All done, finished, forever. Forever.
Hubby and I decided, and I agreed, that we were done having babies. Two terrors is more than enough. My doctor agreed, mainly because he didn't want to see that blood bath I call birth again. I was fine with the End of Babies. But I still waited every month with a little bit of my heart in my throat, to see if maybe an "accident" had happened. Hubby got the big snip, and I was fine. However, I think that somewhere in the back of my head, I was thinking "Yeah, but if I had to, I could still get pregnant. If he died, or something." (NO, I don't want him dead!)
Now, it would take more than strong determined swimmers and weak condoms to give me a tiny baby girl. I have nowhere to grow her. The part of me that made me a mother is gone.
I don't want more children. I know in my head that two is enough, more than enough, and I have no desire for more. But a baby is a different thing. In my heart, a baby would be welcome. I can forget the sleepless nights, the agony of colic, and the chaos of baby paraphernalia. I just remember the tiny body on my chest. The soft warm breath on my neck. The wide eyed unfocused gaze locked on my face.
My womb is gone, and my heart hasn't gotten the memo yet.