Monday, January 13, 2014

there is great risk in over-analyzing your past.

I hid out in my bedroom last night as an effort to seek out some adult time...more specifically, adult TV. At some point, I caught the winter Olympics commercial that celebrates motherhood. I've seen people's reactions on Facebook but I honestly hadn't taken the time to find the spot. Either it's that good, or I was in a mood last night... The spot offers snapshots into the life of these athletes through their mothers' eyes. First as babies, then as maturing professionals. I loved the message of the commercial but what struck me was the baby and toddler scenes. I was hit with panic over not having another child. Like so many others, my personal struggle isn't unique. As soon as I was hired out of college, I knew my career would be a priority. I wasn't looking to get married or have a family. But it happened. A week before I turned 25, I was married. And a week before I turned 26, I gave birth to our son. Once he came, my priorities changed a little but I still spent as many nights up working as I did with him. I also knew we wanted him to have siblings. After waiting until we felt we could handle it, we went for #2. I experienced one miscarriage but soon after was pregnant with our daughter. Both deliveries were awful. They scarred me a little bit. Our daughter being significantly worse than our son, I just convinced myself that my health or the health of the baby wasn't worth trying it again. After some discussion, we opted for a dog instead of another human. I've been plagued by doubt ever since. It's hard to convince yourself that your husband is getting too old, in that, we have plans for "some day" and he may not be interested in doing those things by the time our children are out of the house. I also convince myself that I have other goals to focus on. That the world is only getting uglier...but my heart aches to experience a growing child. I won't look into another baby's eyes searching for pieces of myself and its father in its features. I won't get to see my other children take care of another sibling. I know that we made the decision. I know that it feels like time has run out. I just haven't figured out how to get over this pity party that I seem to throw for myself fairly regularly. Of the lessons I'm learning, this is one of how our life choices can haunt us years later. It makes me wonder if I'm mentally strong enough to overcome these feelings of doubt. And it's amazing to think that the two children that I do have...have completely changed me. They are truly gifts. So much so, that at times I feel like I could surround myself with tiny version of them.

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