All in all, it was a pretty shitty year. Except for, you know, for the awesome baby that came as part of the deal. The Husband and I discussed permanent measures to prevent pregnancy because of how hard everything had been on us both. We decided that if I did end up having another c-section, we would have a tubal ligation done while they were in there. I had all the consent forms done in advance, pretty sure that it wouldn't be necessary because surely the second time around, after everything I had been through in BOTH pregnancies, I would get the birth experience I wanted.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Fuck you, fate!
|Image: David Castillo Dominici at FreeDigitalPhotos.net|
So I had the surgery, my tubes were tied and the deed was done. For a year, it was all good in the hood. Z didn't sleep through the night and frankly, I am closing in on the Big Four-Oh. I am too old for this baby shit. Or so I thought...
Now M is nearly six, Z is a happy, thriving toddler and I just couldn't be any happier. Except that deep down, in places I don't really like to talk about or even admit exist, part of me wonders if there isn't the teeniest, tiniest little bit of me that regrets making a permanent decision in the throes of another difficult pregnancy.
Oh, I know it's crazy and this little family of ours is perfect. But it was supposed to be THREE kids, had we not lost Z's twin. Is there something missing? No, not really. I'm sure if we hadn't made the decision at that moment we would have made the same one by now and we'd be in the exact same spot. I'll just give my babies a great, big hug and stick to wondering, "What if?"