We went to the doctors today to have my staples removed. On the way I asked D what birth control he thought I should go on if she asked. He said none because he's going to go in and have a vasectomy so I don't have to worry any more. He said we shouldn't have anymore. And I'll be honest I don't know if I want anymore either: this pregnancy was so hard and the delivery nearly killed me. I will not take the risk of being lost forever to my girls for a chance to have another baby, or be so selfish as to make D worry like he did the past 9 months and even more the last two weeks. And seriously, the universe has been pretty adamant in its opposition: an angel in heaven because her cord was wrapped, a beautiful baby born who needed a puff of air because her cord was wrapped, the same scenario in both pregnancies with polyhydramnios, terrible pain, the worst recovery I've ever had, loss of half my blood volume, dangerous anemia, transfusion, fear, anxiety.
So I look at Evie and love her so far beyond words, and I look at the girls and feel so much luckier to have them than is describable, and I feel sad to think I'm done, that I'll never make anything as beautiful again. I eat up my time with Evie holding her and being so needed by her knowing that the time is fleeting, and hanging with the girls is so wonderful. To think that I'll never be able to make another like them makes me sad. It feels like I'm missing something by making that choice. But how can I miss something that isn't even there, or thought of, or conceived? And then I wonder if the sadness and "missing out on something" mentality is derived from the fact that what I'm missing is not what could be here but what never will be here.
It is not, nor will it ever be that I am not thankful for the blessings I do have. I will never take them for granted. Ever. It is more that now, that we're talking forever, it is a finality: I will never make another beautiful baby, they are my greatest achievement, pride, honor, blessings, and love. And perhaps I had thought (though it was not a conscious thought) in some avoided corner of the former me, that having Evie would somehow help me find the same happiness that I lost when Gabbie left; but Evie is not Gabbie. The happiness I get from Evie is Evie's happiness not Gabbie's. Evie created a part in my heart that is all hers including happiness and sadness and pride and love. So that means while I enjoy and revel in the happiness that my girls have been providing and that Evie has just created I am still deeply missing Gabbie forever. And right now it's so obvious what I missed out on two years ago and am missing out on still. A sob catches in my throat, the girls are sleeping cuddled up on me for an afternoon nap and the duality of my love for them and the sadness of never being able to share this love with Gabbie or any other baby ever again, now that that we're really talking about being done forever is.... heavy, like flying with the lightest and loveliest wings and carrying a ballast of the most tragically beautiful and heaviest sadness that I just will not put down.
I know that I cannot, should not ever even consider having another. I just have to get used to the idea. Change in all forms is so complicated.
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