Several sleepless nights over my surprising reaction to the idea of having another kid.
The dread is enough to make me nauseous. The terror is pervasive, so much so that the idea of “one and done” is becoming more real to me, which involves the grieving of a life that I had grown fond of imagining, one with multiple children playing and learning from each other…
But what a relief! Imagining being able to put this broken body together without the threat of another vivisection looming over me. It’s been difficult to trying take care of myself while anticipating being cut open again. Why bother taking care of myself, when I’ll just be put on the operating table again, and instantly lose all the progress I’ve worked for?
What a relief to cease building the internal fortifications protecting my fearful heart.
I can finally get rid of the boxes of baby clothes, maternity clothes, the milk pump, the cradle,
I can sign up for classes, or take up a job.
I feel surprisingly lighter despite the heaviness of grief.