Tuesday, April 30, 2013

I'm still here, you know. My life whirls beneath my feet, children at all ends, and yet I am still not full. I will never be full. There are days still where I want to lie myself down at their feet, my four children, and let my tears pool around their little toes. I am so grateful for them. I want them with me, around me, on me, and I never want to let go. They are growing and changing and my family is getting bigger and older and I don't want to leave any of this in my past. I want to keep it here with me forever.

 Can I ever make this feeling go away, this desperation for a baby that haunts me every day?

When I was pregnant with Maeve, and Fiona was herself a baby, I felt somehow certain that this was it. I felt full, complete, and done. But that lasted so briefly.  Now that Maeve is growing older, I entertain myself every single day with fantasies of having another baby some day, one day. Not soon, as my life is most definitely full right now and my body and mind do require some break from the intensity of parenting a baby. But some day, some day far down the road, when everyone is in school I could, (couldn't  I?) conceive one, last, only child to quench my thirst for mothering the young. I dream about this every day.

I know part of this is a long standing obsession with having babies and mothering babies, but I also live in constant fear that I will never again love anything as much as I have loved having babies and young children around the house. As I am still in a stage of my life where I could conceivably have another child, I find it so difficult to willingly leave this stage of my life without looking back. What if it never gets any better than this? Would it be possible to extend it?

I could go on, and on, and on. Every day things happen that make me grieve the loss of just having a baby in my home. This is not a loss. I have had a gain. But still I grieve somehow.

In my mind's eye my empty arms are still reaching, reaching for that baby to hold. They still crave just one more, just one more. Foolishly, they think they can regain what was lost. I know they are wrong, but I still can't stop dreaming.

3 comments:

Rixa Freeze said...

So eloquent...I have never lost a child, yet I still feel the same way about grieving the loss of having a baby in the house. My fourth is a month old and I am so sad that she will probably be our last. And even if I had five, or six, or ten, I know I'd still feel that way when I was done.

Emily said...

My first died after a difficult pregnancy. Then my second lived after an equally difficult pregnancy. I'm probably just not made for baby making...but I want to be, so badly.

Sometimes I wonder if my yearning for a 3rd is really only me trying to regain what I lost with my first? Two pregnancies = 1 living baby...in my heart it just never computes properly.

Catherine W said...

This post is such a beautiful description of that yearning, that reaching for a baby to hold. I lost one of twins and so I've always just buried myself in another baby, just one more. So I can try and ignore the baby that I don't have, that I always feel that I can, somehow, regain.

And I don't know what I will do when this part of my life is, at last, definitively, over. No more babies and still that yearning and desperation that, I suspect, may never leave me.

Dreaming right alongside you and remembering your beautiful Charlotte. Thank you for writing.