June 4, 2009

Leaving the Door Cracked

On Monday, I gave one of Lil C's car seats to a neighbor whose son had barfed all over his seat. We had been outside playing on Sunday and the words, "you can have ours" just blurted out. This may not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but for me, it's monumental. I have a basement packed with baby things that I can't seem to part with. I have every onesie, stained or not. I have every toy and every shoe that either of my kids ever wore. I have, on occasion, given things to my cousin, but only to borrow. I've always asked for my baby things back.

Since I got married, I always wanted to have three kids. My husband is one of three in his family and I like the slightly bigger family. If one sibling is weird, hey, you still have another right? My family has always done things in two's and I wanted to break out of that trend.

After the way Big I came into this world, violently taking my body apart, one stretch mark and tear at a time, it's amazing I didn't decide to stop right there. But as she grew up, I knew I wanted a baby in the house again. The first time around, you're so busy worrying that you're not doing everything right that you don't truly take the time to relax and enjoy it.

I didn't think Lil C was ever going to happen. Mr. BBM was traveling all the time and it takes two to tango. After over a year of that dreaded word, "trying" I figured it was a lost cause. When I gave up, I got pregnant and I was so excited. I decided to eliminate all the medical drama and have a midwife deliver her at a birth center.

Then, half way through the pregnancy, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. My joyful pregnancy turned into one of worry. I cried all the time and prayed for two things: a healthy baby and that the diabetes would go away when it was all over. My Mom's never went away when she had her second baby. She has an insulin pump and a blood sugar sensor on her person at all times. There have been low blood sugars and subsequent ambulance calls and car accidents. I spent a lot of my childhood terrified because of those few times I came home to find my Mom unconscious. I didn't want that for my kids and I didn't want that for me.

Lil C's birth experience wasn't exactly where I had hoped it would be (the Director of Maternal Fetal Medicine scared me into having a hospital birth), but the experience my midwife made sure I had was an amazing one. She kept the medical business out of the experience for me as much as possible. She left me push in the dark without making my knees touch my ears. I practically delivered Lil C myself. Although during the contractions, I swore (literally) and swore I was done; after that amazing experience I wasn't so sure. I've kept the door cracked all these years, terrified to try and find out I can't. Terrified to get pregnant and then get diabetes again; maybe this time for good.

I've had two good friends of mine lose babies in recent months during varying stages of pregnancy, and the weight of that has been crushing. However, my entire street in our new development is in baby making mode and two neighbors have given birth to healthy baby boys in the past three months. The one baby and I have become particularly good friends.

When he wakes from naps on nice afternoons, he spends some time smiling at me while hanging out on my lap. The other day, as I dropped the car seat off at my neighbor's across the street, his daddy was frustrated that he wouldn't take his bottle or stop crying. I gave his Dad a break, cradled him and got him to take his bottle on the first try, while he patted my back with his little fist and held onto my pinky with his other little hand. For the first time in a long time, I thought to myself, "I could do this again." It's just the getting through the pregnancy in one piece that I doubt I can handle again.

I like the freedom that having older kids gives you. I like being able to go out when I get a babysitter and I'm happy to have my body back to myself. After about four years of combined pregnancy and nursing, that's one part I wouldn't be anxious about going back to again.

Over the weekend, we took the girls to see the movie Up. It was a fantastic movie and it was preceded by a short movie that was absolutely adorable. In it, there are storks delivering human babies and animals. I couldn't help to think to myself how nice it would be if one could get a baby delivered like that, without 9 months of being scared you'll end up with the disease you've watched your Mom deal with for years, and without thousands in adoption costs and worldwide travel.

For now, I'm going to borrow my neighbor's son when I'm feeling the baby itch, and I'm still keeping that door cracked, even if just a bit. After all, if a stork happens to drop a baby on my porch, I need to be ready.

***This summer there are some exciting things going on here at Black Belt Mama. Please consider entering the Summer Serenade contest. Details can be found by clicking here. While you're at it, mark the weekend of June 26th on your calendar. Big announcements and changes are coming soon!

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Posted by on June 4, 2009 in Mental Strain for Mama | 5 Comments

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