I am in a waiting stage.
Will I have another child? Should
I give away the baby clothes? How much
is too much of a gap between children?
My husband, on the other hand, is way past the waiting stage. He’s over the fence, hopped on the train,
turned a corner, and is headed straight to the nearest bar. He’s moved on. Ready for the next stage in life where we
reclaim the “us”; and let go of the diapers and pull-ups and Sippy cups and a
child laying between us in our bed (and that child on most nights is the almost
7 year-old, not the 4 year-old). For
some reason, I’m not there yet. And I’m
not quite sure why or what it is that I am still waiting for.
I always envisioned us with three children. But, life is perplexing and unexpected. I never, ever in my harshest nightmares could
have anticipated the journey we have taken to become a family. One day, when the moment feels right, I will “let
go” of my story and my journey; this journey is what led me to writing. But, now is not that time. It is no secret that I have suffered from
Postpartum Depression and Postpartum OCD; and have walked that barb-wire line where the term Postpartum Psychosis was a possibility (these things have become malicious beings and evil
demons that are worth uppercase letters). But the true story is something that
even my dearest friends would read in disbelief and horror. And I’m just not ready yet. Maybe, I’ll be
ready to let go tomorrow. Maybe a year
from now. But, not tonight.
So, why in the world would I want to go through it
again? Seriously, Kristyn, why? WHY.
It’s a constant war between the right side of my brain, the left side of
my brain, and my heart. The left-side
is screaming WTF. That is all. WTF. There is no need to say more. While the right side of my brain is tugging
at my heartstrings with future baby announcements and chubby cheeks and first
steps and belly laughs and rice cereal.
The left-side of my brain is dropping the f-bomb likes it’s the only
word in the dictionary and the right-side is off in baby-land with stars and
moonbeams glowing in her eyes.
If I am being completely honest, and I am nothing if not
honest…to a very big fault; sometimes, I think that maybe I want three children
because time went so fast. I had Maggie,
then I had Harper, and then I blinked. And
that time that people said would go by so fast...really did go by so fast. They weren’t shitting. Sometimes I think that a third child would
give me that time back. But, it can’t. It won’t.
I will never get that time back with Maggie and Harper. And reality is that time with another baby will go just as
fast. It’s inevitable. That’s the funny
thing about time…it just keeps going. And why
do I want that time back? There has
NEVER been an age that I haven’t enjoyed every possible second. Each stage brings new adventures and new
experiences and new traits that I had never discovered in my child until that point. It is true and it is cliché.
Every day I am in more awe of these two miraculous creatures than I was
the day before; and every single day, I fall more in love.
So, why am I still in that lingering, pausing stage? That indecisive, make no decisions right now
stage? Well, maybe that last statement
was just it. I fall more in love every
day. Every second. In every moment. During every laugh. During every temper-tantrum. During every sassy response, I fall more in
love. To think that there could be
another chance to fall in that kind of love is intriguing and
intoxicating. My heart is doing
cartwheels; while the right-side of my brain is eating cotton candy, sitting on
top of the Ferris wheel, looking at the Earth below while Louis Armstong croons
“It’s a Wonderful World”.
But, that left-side of my brain. It knows. It remembers. The hurt,
the suffering, and the hell.
It wakes up every single morning and it always remembers. And right now,
it’s just not ready to let go. Sometimes,
I wonder if it ever will.
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