I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Not that it's much of a secret. But, I just have something I need to talk about, and this is the only place that I feel safe saying exactly what I'm thinking. Maybe because, although most of you are now my real life friends, you still live in my computer, you're still my imaginary friends on my blog. Right now, I'm just talking to space. I need to talk about it.
For the past two months, we have been "trying" to get pregnant. I use quotes on trying because I am so wishy washy about the whole concept. I have been waffling back and forth about having a fourth child for years. So, two months ago, I decided that maybe, kinda sorta, that I was ready. So, I went to the doc and had my IUD taken out.
I miss that wonderful little contraption. Ever since, I have been a walking emotional and physical mess. I feel like crap All. The. Time. I don't like anybody. You better not talk to me, even to say Hello, or I just might bite your head off. I've been cramping constantly since the "procedure." I feel nauseous, dizzy, achy. I've lost almost 20 pounds in the last month and a half.
And let me tell you, after going 3 1/2 years with no periods, it really, really sucks to have them now.
So, back to my apprehensions about having another kid. Most of them are completely selfish. I have a certain lifestyle, that I've gotten used to over the past few years. My youngest child is 4 years old. All of my kids are pretty independent. I don't have to "take care" of them constantly like I would a baby. They are all in school this year. I spend a lot of time for myself; running, writing music, playing piano, blogging. C and I go on about 4 work trips per year, and they are starting to get more frequent. It's a lot easier to leave big kids than babies for 5 days at a time.
I absolutely LOVE my children with all of my heart and soul, but I am just not one of those people who finds eternal joy in parenthood. It's hard and thankless. And I hate cleaning house, and doing cutesy crafty crap, and cooking. I'm like the polar opposite of June Cleaver. Poor C, his Mom makes June Cleaver look like Howdy Doody. She is the perfect housekeeper, always stays on schedule, and is always calm and collected. He did NOT sign up for this.
But, the biggest concern I have about having another kid is my emotional stability. Or lack thereof. I'm prone to depression anyway, but when I have babies, I get PPD so bad, it's scary. It's more like post-partum psychosis. I get crazy murderous, suicidal thoughts. It's terrifying. And I'm worried that having another baby would be the thing that pushes me over the edge.
I'm terrified that I will be that mother who drowns all of her children in the bathtub, and then shoots herself.
C is equally concerned. He has to be the poor sap who has to pick up the pieces when I fall apart.
And I'm just not that confident in my Motherly skills. I kinds feel like I really suck at it. I'm worried that I'm ruining my children's lives before they even get started.
On the other hand, there is just something nagging at me whenever I think I could be done with three kids. I don't know. There are a gazillion really qualified reasons to just stop now.
there is something in my gut. I feel like I'm leaving someone out of our family. But husband says he thinks I'll feel that even if we have 20 babies. Maybe. But, I feel a tiny pang of disappointment, every month, when the pregnancy test is negative. Or maybe it's guilt. Maybe I just feel like I need to produce a litter in order to fit in to the "Perfect-Righteous-Utah-Mormon-Housewife club."
Except I think we all know I was kicked out of that club, years ago, when I first said the word "hell," instead of "golly-gee-fiddle-sticks!"
And yes, I have a fasted and prayed, over and over and over again, about this. For YEARS! With all three of my other children, having them was a deeply spiritual experience for me. All of them were planned. And I knew beyond of shadow of a doubt, that it was time for them to come.
This time I don't feel that surety. My husband and I have both felt strongly that the answer is simply this: it is my decision. Heavenly Father wants me to decide for myself.
But, I keep having these thoughts. Like, what if I decide NO? Where does that little soul, that would've come to us, go to then? Or what if I decide yes, and I can't handle it, and I end up in the loony bin, and my poor husband ends up behind the single father of 4?
I can't decide. I can't make this decision. My whole soul is tired from trying to figure it out.
Why is it so hard?