Done

First, let me start by saying, I get it, I know it.  I know that I have three beautiful, healthy children.  I don't need to be reminded, I didn't forget, or not realize that on my own.  For the record, just as there are things you are not supposed to say to those who have lost a child, the same should be noted for those who are told they should consider themselves done.  Especially when they feel they are not.  When their heart tells them, they are not.

**(A note here, I am not sure that sounded the way I wanted it to.  What I meant is that sometimes people say stupid things in tough situations.  A miscarriage was one of those situations I was thinking of.  Too many times I have heard the wrong words used to console someone trying to make sense of a loss.)

I am so tired of keeping my mouth shut.  As if I have no right.  Because, honestly, when things as the above are said, that's what it feels like.  I am being told I have no right to be sad that I will not be pregnant, with child, expecting, due on..., again.  Simply because I already have three gorgeous babies.  Really?  Is it not supposed to hurt?  Because it does.  Badly.  I just saw a picture of someone holding a tiny little one.  I unexpectedly teared up.  And in the next moment, I found myself stuffing those feelings down.  Reminding myself that I shouldn't feel sad.  Why?

Once again, I know that I am not the only one out there with these feelings.  And I am so aware of the hardships others have when it comes to this issue.  I am not, for one moment, trying to take away from those heartbreaking truths.  Not at all.  I have to acknowledge these feelings I have.  Because it really has been tearing me up inside.  I can't pretend it isn't.

Our littlest one lays beside me in our bed and it is all I can do not to squeeze him too tightly.  His soft cheeks make me smile and his tiny features make me melt.  I think of our two oldest and remember how quickly they grew from this stage to where they are now.  They still love to snuggle up.  It's then that I really see how much they have grown.  Then the sadness washes over me as I recall the words from a recent doctor's appointment.  I know that soon, Alec will be grown up too.  I am not done...

There are internal struggles that I will not even get into that I am sure contribute to these feelings.  There is guilt. I feel like I wasted so much time terrified of the kind of parent I would be that I missed really enjoying it.  My first two are 18 months apart.  So the way I danced through parenthood in the first years were very much the same for them.  It has been very different for Alec.  I no longer worry about my anger getting the best of me. I has such fears of acting out, instead of acting like a loving, caring, responsible parent.  I am more confident and relaxed.  I am comfortable in this role. I don't think I second guess myself any more than any other good parent would.  I love this mommy thing.  I still make mistakes, but I am a good parent.

I do enjoy my moments with my children.  I still lay my head down each night and reflect on the day and wonder what I could have/should have done to make the most of the day.  And I make a plan for the next day.  Most times, those plans fall through in the chaos of the morning and we fall into our normal routines.  It's really not all that bad. Just not as glorious as I had envisioned.  Once, I described what an ideal day spent with my children would be.  I pictured us with a picnic basket running through a field of daisies, laughing while the sun shone down on us.  My girlfriend quickly replied, "I think you've just described a Summer's Eve commercial!".  OK, so it did sound that way.  And our picnics, never go that smoothly.  Someone falls in the mud, dogs steals a sandwich and then there is the inevitable boo-boo.  But in the end, it's all good.

I just want more.  I want more time.  I want more little to grow big. It has taken me so long to feel this good about something I've done.  Why does it have to end here?  This is not a why me thing.  I know someone is reading this and gets it.  I am just not done.

In the end, we are entitled to our feelings.  I would never think of dismissing someone else's hurt.  And I am sure that there are well meaning individuals out there who believe that they aren't.  It happens all the time.  Sometimes, there are no words and most of these times, none are expected.  But understanding is always appreciated.