but some days, it isn’t. Sometimes it’s a song, sometimes a picture or a TV show, sometimes even a layout…makes me want another baby.
If you know me at all, you know my babies are the product of in-vitro fertilization. After four years of first not trying not to get pregnant, then kind of trying, then really trying, then finally one round of IVF, we got our miracles. I wish I had a nickel for every time I heard “oh, you got a boy and a girl, you can stop now”. People just don’t understand how it feels to know that you can’t just decide to have a baby and do it. They don’t understand how it feels to feel guilty for even wanting another baby because you know there are so many people out there still waiting for their first. They don’t know how it feels to think you’d just be tempting fate to try again and you should just be thankful for what you have. Most people just take it for granted.
Today it was a song. Tim McGraw’s new one, “My Little Girl”. I used the lyrics on a layout not that long ago. The part that gets me almost every time is when he talks about how she “looked like an angel wrapped in pink all soft and warm”… There are not very many moments in life when your breath is just taken away and you realize that nothing else in the world matters. There are not that many times that you just can’t imagine ever happening again. Yes, we have two children, a boy and a girl, the perfect family. But we only got one birthday. I only got to be pregnant once. We only got to bring them home from the hospital once. I only got those first few months of sweet, sleepy babies once. I only got to see them learn to walk and talk and do all the things they do once. Yes, I got the unbelievable privilege of seeing it happen to two at once and for that I am truly grateful. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But, sometimes, when I see a Mommy with a sleeping baby, or a toddler just starting to waddle or any of those other things that have already passed for us, it just hurts. I don’t understand it, I never will. To quote another country song, this one from Clay Walker,
An’ how can two people who built a lovin’ home,
Try for years an’ never have a child of their own?
When somewhere out there tonight,
There’s a baby no-one’s holdin’ tight:
In need of love.
To me, that don’t add up.
I know, we aren’t supposed to question things. I don’t go to church every Sunday, but I do understand that. But sometimes it is so hard not to. To see babies that are not being taken care of as they deserve to be and yet to not be able to have another of my own. To hear people complain about being pregnant or see women who have babies and pass them off to relatives to be raised…sometimes it’s just too much to comprehend.
Yes, I have my days. Those days that my two babies drive me absolutely crazy. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love them. That’s another thing, though…only those who experienced infertility can understand how guilty it makes you feel to have those days when they’re driving you crazy and you really need a break when you wanted so badly for years to just have them.
I suppose we all have a cross to bear. I mean, I consider myself so very blessed to have had two healthy babies when I know so many people who experienced a loss with a multiple pregnancy or had their babies early and still have health issues. Or even those who had singletons, but have children with chronic or life-threatening illnesses. I know I’m lucky to have what I have, I really do. But sometimes, it’s just too much to realize that having another child is most likely not an option for us and I can’t help but feel sad and frustrated and, well, cheated. I can’t help but be selfish and wish I could have another baby. I can’t help but ask why because, well, it just isn’t fair. But it’ll be okay. I suppose I could comfort myself with the fact that if God wanted us to have another baby, he’d give us one. I know, I’ve seen the miracle surprise babies that happen after IF treatments. Maybe in a way, that makes it even harder. We never got a diagnosis. There was nothing wrong with either of us. So, there’s still that chance. It could happen. And knowing each month that there is that slight possibility and then being disappointed when it doesn’t happen. Some people just get their tubes tied and move on. They can’t take the not knowing each and every month. I suppose I could do that, but I won’t. You just never know when it might happen. And so, each month, you are left with the wondering…until AF arrives and you don’t have to wonder anymore. And you’re disappointed and you wonder why you can’t do something that seems so simple. Something that for most is a God given right. And you have to wonder why God didn’t give that right to you.
It’ll be okay. But some days, it just hurts more than others…I’m gonna go hug my kids now.