I haven’t written a post for a while, and haven’t really felt like it. This post is why. This is what I have been feeling and grieving and I just haven’t felt like I could write anything because this was what was in my mind, taking over my mind. The ache of wanting another baby.
Firstly, I want to acknowledge that this post may seem selfish to some. You may wonder why I can’t be grateful with what I have, why do I want more. I completely recognise that I am extremely lucky to have three children, extremely. I know many people would just like to be able to have one child and here I am with three, saying I am grieving not having another. I can’t imagine their pain and grief.
My youngest child is 3. I tried to convince myself when I was pregnant that I did not want any more children. It didn’t work. I have had an ache for a fourth child that just hasn’t seemed to go away no matter how much I wish it would.
Unfortunately, my husband doesn’t have the same desire. He is done. I do not feel like I am. It is a horrible place to be in, for both of us I am sure. I think I thought he would change his mind. I wanted him to so much that I think I forgot to consider how he really felt and his reasons and just focused on my intense need for another child.
The intensity of my wanting another child has been so strong, so primal for me. An ache that is there in my chest, in my gut, an ache that can bring tears to my eyes easily.
I wish I was one of the women who could say that I knew I was finished having children. I imagine it would make it a lot easier. Instead I have felt consumed at times by my need, and by my grief at knowing that this will not be my reality. That there will be no more children for me. No more growing a baby in my belly. No more feeling them squirm in my belly. No more birthing babies. No more nights where I feel like I am awake all night feeding a baby. No more falling in love with a little person I have birthed. No more watching a new little life that we have created develop and grow. There have been many, many tears.
I am coming to a place of acceptance. Acceptance that I will not get to do these things again with my own child. Acceptance that my husband does not want any more children and I need to respect his decision. Acceptance that I do not want to change his mind, I do not want him to resent me. Acceptance that I am grieving the end of my baby growing years.
It isn’t easy, and I still feel deeply sad about this. But I will be ok. I will hold my children extra tight and be grateful for them and all the beautiful, crazy, mischievous, wonderful things they do. I will choose to try to look forward to getting a full night’s sleep and to a new season of my life. A season of growing children rather then babies. I will look forward to new nieces and nephews coming in to my life and being able to get my baby fix from them. I will be ok…. Eventually. And my tears flow….