It’s Tuesday morning.
I’m sitting here forcing myself to eat something because I know I need food on my belly. It’s churning with bile. I’ve been sick for the past two days with a fever, chills, aches and my least favorite symptom – nausea.
Sometimes I think I’m in control of my thoughts and my feelings and then something triggers me and I almost have a panic attack. Control is gone. Lost. For me, that’s the worst feeling in the world. This little bug that I’ve caught will surely go away. I’ll feel better soon. I already DO feel better than yesterday. But the nausea and the memories of those nine months leave me in a panicked state.
Those nine months.
Do you remember, reader? I was sick for all of Porter’s pregnancy. So sick. So nauseous. From the time my feet hit the floor in the morning until my head hit the pillow (at 8pm because I just needed it to stop), I was sick. Every day was a trial and a test of my strength and I honestly can’t say that I passed most days. The depression. The weeping. I remember crying into Travis’ chest, begging him to take it away. I remember praying to God, begging him to heal me. Maybe I’m being overdramatic here but those nine months were the most challenging of my life – THE hardest thing I’ve gone through so far. You’ll understand that the last few days of nausea have given me flashbacks to that challenging time. Questions, big life questions bounce around my brain.
What if I’m pregnant?!?
Don’t I want that?!? Haven’t I been fighting for that?!? Another sweet babe.
Can I do it again?? Can I be sick again? What would that look like?
Maybe you won’t be sick like last time. Maybe you’ll have a few weeks of nausea and then it’ll be over. Is it worth the risk??
Am I strong enough? How could I possibly manage life with that heavy depression?
Could we be done having children?? Is three a good stopping place??
What’s the right number for our family?
What do you WANT, Lindsay??
I honestly don’t know.
I honestly do not know.
What I DO know is that I love children and being a mama is my calling.
What I DO know is that I’m blessed to even be able to carry children. To conceive them. To birth them.
What I DO know is that if we’re going to keep having children, I’d like to have them close together. I’d like for Porter to have someone his age to grow up with, a playmate. I also know that we’d like to move out of this “baby” stage and into “Disney trip”-stage. So that means we need to start trying NOW. A time crunch of sorts. A life deadline.
And who says I’m in control here. After two miscarriages, I know better. What if we got pregnant and then miscarried? Would we try again after that? I have many friends who would KILL for the chance of being pregnant…they’d kill to be sick. Is it petty and selfish of me to not be up for the task??
And ultimately, I think that’s what I’m most afraid of –> feeling weak either way. Weak in the sickness or weak and selfish for choosing my own mental/physical health over adding another child.
SO MANY QUESTIONS.
And I’m not sure why I’m even publishing this…it’s more of a diary entry…but I guess I wanted to share my heart and where I’m at. Maybe someone else is dealing with these questions too.
I have a question for YOU, parent –> How do you know when you’re done having children?? What makes (made) you say, “Yep. Our family is complete.” I’m all ears.