For eight years we’ve been in baby season. For eight years I’ve either been pregnant or had a baby in my arms. Like clock work every time the baby in my arms became a toddler we would decide to try for another. God blessed us with being able to easily conceive. However, I didn’t do well pregnant. Pregnancy wasn’t kind to my body. I wasn’t one of those women; who loved being pregnant. Frankly; I hated pregnancy but I loved the end result. The end result was worth all the pain and misery pregnancy brought. I loved the ending so much we had 4.
The fourth coming after a spinal fusion and he is our last. My poor back can’t do another pregnancy. Another pregnancy has a high potential to put me in a wheelchair and put my pain to a point were pain management can no longer help me. The thought that he is our last makes me sad but it isn’t the devastating sadness I felt when the surgeon told me I couldn’t have William. It’s more of a fond sadness. A wistful sadness that I won’t ever hold my brand new baby and fall head over heels in love with another being. A love so strong that it’s all consuming. That I won’t ever get to see my husband hold his new child for the first time radiating love. That I won’t ever see my sons light up with joy when they meet their new sibling.
In 9 days I will be having a hysterectomy out of medical necessity. The surgery is final. It says with a decisiveness that we are leaving baby season. That our time here in this season of new life is up. That we must move on. Move on we will. It opens up new adventures for us to take. So, while there might be some sadness that this season is coming to a close there is also a sense of excitement for our new adventure.
As we prepare to move on I am left with a handful of wishful thinking items that I am unsure of what to do with. Things I held onto with the intention that one day I would give them to my daughter or daughters. However, there will be no daughter. Despite my prayers (and Paul’s prayers) God did not bless Mark and I with a daughter. I wouldn’t trade any of my boys for a daughter but I do wish there had been a fifth baby that was a girl. Yet, for reasons I do not understand God wanted me to be a mom to only boys. I think the lack of a mother-daughter relationship is what makes having a hysterectomy most difficult for me. Knowing that now there really is no chance that we will ever have a daughter. There are things and experiences within a mother-daughter relationship that just doesn’t exist in a mother-son relationship.
There is a part of me that mourns the loss of that potential daughter so strongly that I want to throw caution to the wind. I want to cancel the hysterectomy and roll the dice and get pregnant again. I want to roll the dice and say who cares if I end up in a wheelchair. So, what if my pain gets to a point that pain management can’t help me anymore. The pain; the loss of being able to walk would all be worth it if it meant that I could have a daughter. If it meant I could give Paul the baby sister he so desperately wants and still asks for on occasion. But, I can’t do that. It’d be the height of folly and would make me a terrible mother and wife. I can’t be that selfish. Mark deserves a wife that isn’t in a wheelchair in agonizing pain. My boys deserve a mother; who can be a mom. That potential daughter deserves a mother; who can be a mom. To try and have a daughter means I give up the ability to be a good mom and wife and I can’t be that selfish.
So, instead I prepare for a hysterectomy. I prepare by snuggling with William and breathing in his sweet baby scent; knowing that I won’t be able to call him baby much longer. He is one and before I know it he will be a totally independent toddler. I prepare by getting rid of the baby items as he out grows them. Donating them; so that they may bless other families. Lastly, I prepare by carefully boxing up the dreams that were for Alexis. It’s time to say goodbye not only to baby season but also to Alexis; for she will never be.