lucky number THREE
Some of the comments to my “If I’m being honest…” post made me cry. Not because they made me feel bad for myself, but because they forced me to acknowledge the WHY behind the guilt I struggled with. I mean, honestly, feeling guilty about loving my family as a four-top and not wanting another highchair brought to the table was kinda bunk.
The reason it came up at all was because I had the Mirena removed in November. It was a rocky, emotionally messy year and that damn IUD plunged me into several months of serious depression. Since the Mirena was the only birth control method I had left to try (the rest messed with my hormones as well) it brought the discussion to my husband. How serious were we about being “done?” He’s never really cared about getting a vasectomy. He viewed it as mundane as taking out the trash. It needed to get done and it was his turn. He made the date and I obsessed.
Finally one of my aunts stopped me in the middle of a rant and asked me if I had ever really grieved for the baby I lost. She suggested that maybe my familial expectations were off because I was almost a mother of three.
I forget THREE all the time. She wasn’t planned, but for a little while we expected her. Planned for her. Adjusted everything we thought we wanted to make room for her. And then she didn’t come. It happened so quickly. I thought I grieved, but maybe I didn’t. I honestly don’t know how to grieve for someone I never knew.
But I finally understood my anxiety. And in that moment my guilt was gone and a calming peace flooded my heart. I wasn’t betraying my little THREE by not adding more kids to the mix. They wouldn’t have been her anyway. And as ONE likes to say, “We’ll see her in heaven. But I hope she won’t surprise us by being a boy. Because boys are stinky.”
So today that part of our lives ends. No more babies. The finality of that excites me. Even the cold of winter isn’t making me claustrophobic. My perspective has completely changed because this is IT. This is the LAST TIME I’ll have a two-year-old spitting tantrums at my feet. The LAST January I’ll have both girls home with me all day. The LAST time I’ll have to get someone else to potty train my kid.
And so a huge THANK YOU to the wonderful friends and readers I’ve made through this blog. Thank you for making me think. Thank you for not letting me off the hook and for making me “go there.” It wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.
And thank you for telling me to enjoy my girls. I was so wrapped up in my head that I wasn’t enjoying them at all. Time is moving so quickly. I don’t want to miss any more than I already have.