I was reading this post by Stacey at anymommyoutthere.com, and I am now trying to control the deep well of emotions that are threatening to burst through a carefully constructed wall of denial. I have three boys, four during the summer, and up until a few months ago I was a full-time working mother. I think my story started changing a couple of years ago...
June 2009
Baby Nestor is born after almost 30 hours of labor and an emergency C-section. Surgery lasts longer than expected (and therefore freaks out DH about any more babies), and it turns out all my girl parts need a deep cleaning before I can be done with having this (last, unbeknownst to me) baby.
May 2010
OB "strongly suggests" (mom and DH fanatically jump on the bandwagon) that I have a hysterectomy. I've already had two surgical procedures in three years, continuous girl-pain, and all kinds of other fun stuff. I fall for the guilt trip about being healthy for the children I already have and for my family. I have the surgery.
October 2010
Dark times... very dark times...
November 2011
I officially quit working (although I have not been working since September).
Today
I read Stacey's post. I cried. I read every single comment, I couldn't help myself. It was like water to a person in a desert. It was a salve to the wounds I've been carrying for over two years, hidden from my loved ones because of their disapproval and their inability to comprehend... these wounds have been festering and poisoning my role in the lives of everyone I love.
I am no longer the same mother, wife, daughter, sister, woman that I was that fateful May. I am slightly bitter, passive-aggressively angry, resentful. Most especially resentful: of my mother's glossing over having more children, "you aren't even a stay-at-home mother, you already have a bunch of kids, you don't need to risk your health, it's not a big deal"; of my husband's ease with a choice over my body while his is still able to procreate even though he supposedly does not want any more children PERIOD; of my beautiful children, so wrongly, but still because they mention their own desire for another brother or sister and make my heart bleed with their innocent request; of my sister because she doesn't have children and finds it so easy to say, "Oh well!" as if she didn't know me as well as she does; of myself...
I'm especially resentful of myself.
Why did I say yes to the surgery? Why?! I have three healthy, wonderful boys (four during the summer). Why can't I just let it go? Am I tempting fate or insulting God and asking for something awful to befall my family before I can be satisfied? I am not an ungrateful person. Why can't I let this go and just be grateful for what I have? I'm an educated woman. I am a rational woman. I am a logical person. I know what I have, and I know I have a lot. Why can't I let this go?
I don't have the words, or the talent, to express the sorrow... the overwhelming sorrow that threatens daily to drown me. Therapy, medication, time, life's little joys, my kids... I keep waiting for all of these to help me reach a resolution... to help me find peace. I keep waiting to become - no, to return to - the person I once was. I don't want to pretend to be happy. I want to actually be happy - all the way, not just on the surface. I want to swim the ocean, not just tread water. I want to laugh easily.
Stacey, thank you for putting into words something I struggle with every day. Thank you for opening your comments so that I could take solace in finding that I am not alone in my desires and sadness. Thank you for sharing your gift with words on such an intimate subject. Thank you.
