I have been trying to convince myself all day that I didn’t want you. I talked to myself about all the reasons we shouldn’t have you.
- We’re too old.
- We’ll be REALLY old when you graduate from high school.
- We will need a bigger house.
- We are finally getting sleep.
- Timmy is almost two.
- We will be delaying free time again for two more years.
And then I spent the next few hours telling myself how bad morning sickness would be and that I am better off emotionally without you. I thought about all the anxiety I might experience and how great it would be to not stress about every visit to the doctor to make sure you were okay.
I even spent some time feeling relieved that I wouldn’t have to defend your creation to my mother or others who think having three kids is stupid. I was relieved I wouldn’t have to try rationalize you and I was relieved that if there was something wrong with you that I wouldn’t have to suffer with the “I told you so’s,” and the “You pushed your luck,” statements.
I talked to God. I told him I was trying to trust in Him. I told him that I needed you but that He knows best. I told him I was hurting and asked him to take the pain away.
All that talking to myself, didn’t work. It doesn’t matter all the rationalization I attempted to do, I am sad you won’t be coming. At least not now.
I am angry that you didn’t come this month. It will be nearly two months before I have the chance again. I was looking forward to a November birth and being 39 when you would be born but instead, I will be at least 40…IF we try again. And that’s really a big IF because I am not sure we will.
We really shouldn’t try. We really are too old. But I want you. I dreamt about you. I even purchased stuff for you. I was preparing in all ways to have you. I didn’t buy a bunch of stuff, but I bought a few things that I knew would be helpful and I stopped selling things…just in case.
It hurts when I see pregnant women, when I see pregnancy announcements and new babies, and it hurts when I see Timmy nurturing his plastic baby doll. I think Timmy’s nurturing that baby hurts the worst, because I imagine that baby as you.
I imagine you a girl. Hoping and praying for daddy’s sake that you would be a girl because he so desperately wants a girl. I imagine you and Timmy growing up close in age. Something we wished so much for, for Joey but weren’t able to provide.
I was excited to put your crib in our room. I was excited to have Timmy hold you and kiss you. I was excited to breastfeed you, nurture you, and do things better this time around. But it’s not going to happen. Because I am so angry.
I am so angry, that I want to never try again.