Friday, March 14, 2014

"My heart is so small it’s almost invisible. How can you place such big sorrows in it?" “Look,” He answered, "“your eyes are even smaller, yet they behold the world.”


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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