I Want a Baby One Day… But It’s Probably Never Going To Happen

 photo RandomRants_zps71f53ca5.png

 photo 1a_zps701aa570.jpg

The Rant:

There are a great many things I write about on a daily basis (mascara and coffee possibly topping the list), but there have always been a few subjects that are off limits. Previously, this was matters of health or somatic kvetching… but now I have a tremendous community of lung-sick friends and lame-organ counterparts that brings support, solace and humor to an otherwise sticky situation. I also used to never talk about the dark sides of my past relationship, which (save for a few elucidations and vagaries of yore), still holds firm. But if there is one thing I never imagined myself being open and honest about it’s the following: wanting to have another baby.

 photo 1aa_zpsa1fa2c4b.jpg

The best belly shot I have: only a few weeks before I had my second!

If any men are reading this right now (I somewhat doubt it, since my web serve is powered by estrogen and glitter), feel free to avert your eyes immediately. I’m not sure how many of you have felt the burning ember of innate mommahood- an instinct as clear as “fight or flight” or “falling head first”- compelling you towards parenting. I have felt this twice already in my lifetime, and both times my pregnancies were far from safe or advisable. After the birth of my first daughter, my midwives advised me to reconsider procreating on the biological level ever again (but in nicer words). We went over the ramifications, the dangers, and the overall rotten “human incubator” that I’ve proven myself to be despite every effort to the contrary. My second daughter had a scary start to the world: being shipped off to an Advanced Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at another hospital shortly after birth because of pneumonia in her lungs, and an ensuing pneumothorax. Perhaps it’s safe to say I blamed myself, whether I should have or not (CliffNotes: not).

Knowing what we know now about my own inept talents towards wellness, this is not that shocking (again, bad incubator = me), but thanks to various miracles, my mother’s prayers, and possibly more glitter… my baby pulled through and is a healthy, growing 4 year old lunatic. So after surviving two pregnancies from “double hockey sticks” (that’s Mom code for… well, you know)- including a vastitude of hospitalizations, physical declines and depletions- it’s safe to assume that another baby would not be smart. In fact, every doctor I’ve spoken with since has basically said: “Don’t be a Dugger, dude.”

 photo 1_zps55da20a1.jpg

However, now that I am in love with someone who is a Dad and makes a tremendous parent… naturally, the idea of procreating free from the control, strain, fear, and nuptially-bound-single-parenthood of my past seems a worthy experience. To look in the eyes of a baby and see the traits of someone I respect and adore (even if he looked like a tiny John Cusack as a kid. Hey, High Fidelity is the best!). To not be the only person waking up at night, or excited to feel an inner-belly kick, or embracing the highs and lows in full… This is something I’ve never truly had, and can’t help but want.

Of course, I have two perfectly crazy, neurotic, beautiful, unique, quirky, independent little girls… And nothing could detract from them, or my journey in raising them thus far. Still, every part of my being has the irrepressible hope of another kiddo one day (not now, obviously, but in the future)… yet that desire seems selfish and delusional at best. The reality of my health is that a baby would likely never be in the cards – two was already a medical anomaly- and would certainly be a self-oriented risk in spite of my preexisting, lovely family. If we could pick, we would adopt (that’s our first choice even if my health was perfect), but it’s simply too expensive for this Freelance Writer/Teacher combo of a couple.

 photo 2_zps6beb3699.jpg

So why am I writing this? I think sometimes when certain realities of our lives become too painful (even if they’re irrational, or emotional, or somewhat deluded)… it’s almost always best to stop isolating yourself within the experience. I have known and loved many women who have lost pregnancies… lost infants… or been unable to conceive at all. I have been blessed above and beyond with my medical-miracle little ladies, and wouldn’t change our history for the world. Yet, so many women still deal with these wishes, hopes, worries on a daily basis, but feel too cliché to talk about it (I am soooo Steal Magnolias right now, right?) Maybe I am isolated in how I feel, but the truth of the matter is… every time I see a precious little baby, or feel inspired by his fathering, or think about how we’d give them the middle name Wilde (after Oscar, of course)… it hurts.

It’s that simple.

Somehow saying that it hurts, makes the sting just a little bit better.

But then again… maybe it always will?

Want to rant with me? Share any of these pics on Makeover Momma Pinterest page or just talk amongst yourselves.

Let Me Know: Agree or disagree? Like or dislike? Go!

Posted in Brains Tagged with: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
One comment on “I Want a Baby One Day… But It’s Probably Never Going To Happen
  1. Oh Bailey, I didn’t know that you had such a hard start…
    I had my share of close alls with each pregnancy.

    Yet here I am wanting and hoping for one more bby, even though I know I shouldn’t and I can’t…

    I have 6 as you may remember. My first born I was in bed rest for 4 weeks and ended up being 2 weeks ove due, and also my water had broken 2 days before I ever told anyone. c-section and a week in the NICU for my 1st born, and he pulled through.

    My second is biologically not mine (husband had him before we met).

    Between my first and my third I had a total of 3 miscarriages.
    My third was born at 30 weeks and thankfully was good to go.

    between my third and my fourth I had another miscarriage.

    My fourth was another complicated pregnncy and I was on bed rest for 4 weeks. She was born through c-section at 28 weeks and spent 6 weeks in the NICU.

    sadly another miscarriage in between.

    My fifth put me on bed rest for 6 weeks and was born through c-section because my uterus started to literally rip open. he spent 8 weeks in the NICU and had a heart condition and now autism.

    of course another miscarriage, but this one had gone up to 25 weeks.

    When I went for another check up I was pregnant with my last. I did 3 months on bed rest, and agai my uterus started to rupture and my baby was born through c-section t 22 weeks. He did 2+ months in the NICU.

    Needless to say it wouldn’t be smart of me to hav one more, though it HAS been 8 years since then and my tubes were also tied. Tied, then I ended up pregnant, and had a miscarriage, so then the Docs cut and cauterized them, lol.

    I know what it feels like to want to have a child with someone who you see a new life with, I am in the same place, though still with the same guy. long story, lol. I hope that down the roadd you are able to have the pregnancy and/or adoption you want 😉 xoxoxo

    (p.s My husband was on the Navy for 15 years, in the Military we call those: Westpac babies, or deployment babies, lol. My husband was deployed 8 times during 15 yrs)

Find us on Google Plus

Categories