September 27, 2009

On Closing That Door

When you have a plan in your head of what your life is going to be like, it's sometimes difficult when things don't turn out quite like you had planned. At one point in my life, I wanted to be a lawyer. I thought, at the time, that I was too busy for kids. My husband would be the stay-at-home parent and I would be the bread-winner. When my political science class didn't go as planned, I trashed that plan and only occasionally look back and wish I had that law degree. I'd never wish not to stay home with my kids though. That change to plans is one I don't ever question.

When Mr. BBM and I started our family, I set out with the intention of having three children. I didn't care if they were girls or boys. I just wanted three. Mr. BBM is one of three children and I loved the feeling of an extra sibling in the house. I grew up with just me and my sister.

But when I was a couple months pregnant with Lil C, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. Suddenly I was regretting my decision to even have a second child. For some people, gestational diabetes isn't a big deal, but for me, I knew it could be potentially devastating.

When my Mom was pregnant with her second child, she got gestational diabetes too. Hers, however, did not go away. My Mom is a Type 1 diabetic with an insulin pump and has been for the past 30 years. Growing up, I would come home to find her unconscious sometimes, having gone into insulin shock from a very low blood sugar. She was in a serious car accident one time from another low blood sugar. The life of insulin shots and constant blood sugar monitoring was not one I wanted.

I spent my entire pregnancy fluctuating between being excited about the baby and just wanting the baby out so I could (hopefully) stop being a diabetic. Thankfully, my diabetes went away after pregnancy. I felt like I was granted a reprieve and so did my Mom.

My plans to have a third were shattered. Taking the chance of the gestational diabetes coming back and staying seemed too great. Did I really want to subject my kids to some of the things I dealt with growing up? The answer was a definite "no." My Mom, an RN, felt the same. "Don't take that chance. Don't do it" she's told me on more than one occasion.

So with plans for a third gone, the question of why I was keeping all this baby stuff kept coming up. I have a basement full of beautiful baby clothes and bassinets. Things I won't use again, but I can't seem to part with. Mr. BBM doesn't get it and just wants the stuff gone. For me, each little piece of clothing holds so many memories. They are physical pieces of my children's baby years that seem to bring me closer to that time in my life when I had a baby on my hip. Maybe it's because Mr. BBM has always worked full time and he wasn't here nearly as much as I was with them. But no matter what he thinks or feels about it, it's difficult for me to say "I'm done" and get rid of the things that represent a time I so loved.

I don't know what made me do it today, a week before Lil C turns four, I guess it was because I know she'll be getting some new clothes for her birthday and I needed to make room. Cleaning out the things from her closet that she wore in the past year didn't seem so hard. I kept a couple items that were her favorites (or mine) and put the rest in bags for her friends. She was happy to help me. I figured since that had gone so well, I'd go through some 12-18 month stuff for my neighbor, a little girl I adore.

While going through the containers, I had the hardest time. I had to keep stopping and taking a deep breath. I'd put something on the pile to give away and then decide I just couldn't do it. It was the closest thing to torture I think I've ever experienced. I did it though, and made my way through the three containers. I parted with about 40% of it and that was a huge accomplishment for me.

Because I knew that if it stayed here for one more minute, it wasn't going to happen, I immediately went down the street to deliver it. It was when my friend looked kindly at me and said, "Are you sure?" that I lost it.

I have two healthy children and came out of a scary pregnancy unscathed, but wanting another little person in your house and not being able to have it is devastating emotionally. During the day to day, when you can occupy yourself with other things, it's not a problem. But when you force yourself to go through these things and get rid of what represents what you wanted your family to be and it won't be. . . When you're taking steps that say you've accepted that you're finished with that part of your life. . . it's just really, really, hard.