During a serious conversation with Hubs last night I heard myself telling him that I wasn't sure anymore if I even wanted to have children.
I don't know what's gotten into me. I don't know if that's even true or not.
I never used to question it. From the moment I was old enough to realize I was a girl and "girls grow up to be mommies" I knew I wanted children. Whenever someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up I told then I wanted to be a mom. (Although Broadway Star was a close second.)
For as long as I can remember I've had a vision of what my future would hold and it always centered around kids. Happy, healthy kids who would be outside playing in the yard while I stood at my (always lovely, always granite-topped) kitchen counter fixing them snacks. That vision never included infertility and it certainly never included deformities and abortion and grief. Now it does. Now it also includes uncertainty and fear.
It's hard for me to admit that since our loss I sometimes question myself now. I question whether I am meant to be a mother. Maybe the path I've led is now meant to just be a story, a cautionary tale of sorts for other women who will stumble across this blog and read about all these sad things that happened to some person who calls herself Chickin. Maybe everything I've been through has happened because I'm spending all my time and energy chasing something that is just not meant to be.
Maybe I'm losing my mind.
I think I said that to my husband last night because after assuming for so many years that my dream of a future would someday come true, things feel like they are so off-kilter now that it's enabling me to picture other futures for us for the first time. Futures that include selling our big house in the suburbs and moving into a small condo in the city; traveling multiple times a year and buying a boat to dock at our future lake house; moving across the country or even to an entirely new country... It scares me that I can now so easily picture these things when less than a year ago I had not a shred of doubt in my mind that there was ONE future in store for us, and that we would make it happen however we needed to. I was so impatient then and each month that ticked by felt like an eternity and made it that much more critical for the next thing to WORK. Now, time is barely a factor. I feel no sense of urgency anymore. I feel no sure path anymore. How quickly things change.
Last night as we were wrapping up our convo I found myself beginning to tell Hubs that he shouldn't worry, that he shouldn't think that I no longer want children. I had wanted to set his mind at ease but I had to stop. I couldn't do it. I couldn't say the words because I'm not sure what's true anymore. I don't know how I feel.
But then I'll see a baby and break out in tears because I'm so sad that s/he's not our child and that our arms are still empty and I remind myself to be patient and have faith. So apparently that longing is still there inside me. I still wish and hope and pray... I just am no longer certain of what it is I'm praying for.