Up until yesterday morning, I thought I might be pregnant. And I wasn't happy about it.
And that upsets me.
It took four years, a misfiring reproductive system, surgery, insulin-controlling drugs, hormone injections, Dr. Miracle, and numerous artificial insemination procedures to finally have Miss-Miss and Bubba. It was a time of confusion, tears, wailing, and just general tearing of my hair. It was agony and I can distinctly remember a phone conversation with Ty-man in which I asked, no begged, him to divorce me so that he could find a woman in whom his seed could find purchase.
He flatly refused (thank FSM). And we had our beautiful twins. Dr. Miracle promptly put me back on the insulin-controlling meds and waited. He knew what would happen.
Me? Not so much. At least, not until the twins' first birthday when those three over-the-counter pregnancy tests loudly announced Whoa, Nelly! Lookee there! You gotta a bun in the oven! Whoda thunk it? Your f-ed up egg-makin' machines done fin'ly figured it out!
Let's just say that after J-man's weaning, Dr. Miracle put me on some strong-ass birth control. Really strong. Not only to keep another surprise at bay, but to also control my endometriosis. Now, for a woman whose teen-age, pre-oral contraceptive period days were legendary (Yeah, hi. Mr. South Charleston Kroger Manager? All those Kotex products on Aisle 12? I'll take them all. Yes. No, I'm not kidding. They'll be gone within 10 days. Seriously. Give them to me! OR I'LL BLEED ALL OVER YOU!!!) and for a woman whose 20s were spent on the phone with random gynecologists trying to convince them that Ortho-Tricyclene and Tri-phasil were the biggest jokes of the pharmeceutical industry because, control bleeding and cramps during one's monthly cycle? Total, complete, and utter bullpucky.
Now I'm taking Ovcon-50. Damn. My period? One day long. I barely even know it's happening. Cramps? What the Hell are those? Zits? Never heard of 'em.
And when my never happens anymore period finally decided to show up three days, instead of two, into the sugar pill row, I. Was. Freaked. I was worried that the Ty-man's super-sperm had somehow broken through the defenses of the strongest of oral contraceptives. That maybe taking pill #10 at 11:30PM instead of 11PM had caused that random egg to cut loose from my shriveled ovaries and make like Clint Eastwood out of Alcatraz (God, I love that movie).
And I didn't want that fourth child.
And I feel like such a hypocrite for knowing I don't want anymore children. I mean, come on. I used to rail at women like me who didn't want anymore when all I wanted was just one. I couldn't stand the women who were Fertile Myrtles, popping kids out left and right, complaining about the whole thing when there I was, begging for the sciatic pain. I wanted the fat ankles. I needed the stretch marks.
And now? I don't. Women like me used to piss me off. And now, here I am. One of those chicks rejecting the eggs I have left. Horrified at the thought of the pitter-patter of two more feet. Perfectly content with the three I have but not willing to make room for one more.
Because honestly? I'm crazy enough as it is. One more mini-me would send me over the edge.
And I feel guilty for feeling this way.
Who Am I?
- Coal Miner's Granddaughter
- I am the 40-ish granddaughter of Frank (see header), a fiddle-playing coal miner from West Virginia. I was born and raised in said state and have lived in Georgia since 1994. I have a wonderful husband, three beautiful kids, one cranky cat, and one anxiety-ridden dog.
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Confessions of a Coal Miner's Granddaughter by Coal Miner's Granddaughter is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 United States License.
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17 comments:
Well, babe, I don't think you should feel guilty for knowing your own limitations.
Only you know how much you can handle. Being a mom is THE HARDEST job in the world.
Don't beat yourself up about it!
My sister and her husband have been trying to have children for years now. They have gone through 2 successful IVF's. She became pregnant with her first son but went into labor at only 20 weeks along. Griffin was born alive but died about 45 minutes later. They went through another and became pregnant with twin boys. After 22 weeks pregnant she went into labor. MacLane & Brogan died after about 1 1/2 hours. In nine months they buried three sons.
I am sure that my sister would respect the fact that another child would be too much for you. I know that I respect people more for knowing what they can handle! I am certain that my sister is angrier by seeing mothers who keep having children even when they cannot take care of them!
My sister and her husband are taking classes to be foster parents and their doctor said that she can actually try again. Your story gives me hope for them!! God Bless You :-)
Absolutely do not feel guilty for knowing you can't handle any more kids!
My last comment sounds kind of jackass-y...you know what I mean, don't you?
You should not feel guilty for being happy with three children. Just look at it from that perspective.
My second child was a 'surprise' and it took me the entire 9 months to realize that I really wanted her. I actually had to MEET her. So, don't feel bad about it - you know the stress of kids, the anticipation of adding more makes you feel that way. There's no doubt that *if* it happened your heart would eventually overcome your psyche. For me, it was all mental, then she showed up and I was like "WTF was I thinking?". I can not imagine life without her, and to think that my first reaction to a positive test was "OH SHIT", breaks my heart. I literally spent 9 months in near dread. It's just logical thinking...More kids = stress(x) + (more mess/not so perky breasts). You think in equations, no?
I only felt guilty about it when talking to friends having problems getting pregnant. I get what you're saying.
But being done is being DONE. There is nothing wrong with that!
There's no reason to feel guilty.
You know my story, you know I'm still in the first boat. But I've also already been in the second boat and was fully prepared to be COMPLETELY finished after that one.
Oh don't even try to feel guilty over that.
The problem ISN'T you not wanting to have more kids (only YOU know your limits and only YOU know what would be good for a child of yours).
The problem is the women unable to have kids (the old-you, if you will) are projecting their inner problems ONTO you.
Don't feel guilty for one moment. You are the only one who knows best.
I agree with the other comments: it's fantastic that you know you're content with the three you've got and you shouldn't feel guilty for not wanting another.
I'm one of those chicks who has no desire to have ANY children. Because I know that zero children is enough for me.
I applaud you for recognizing and respecting your limits. Too many people have kids they really aren't prepared to take care of it. Better to give the ones you already have "the best of you".
Don't beat yourself up over that. I am content with just one. I would not be good with any more than just him, and I do not feel guilty about it. The fact that you are comfortable with three is fantastic. Relish in that.
What's next, a full quiver? No, dear. Don't feel bad about needing to stick with three. And I won't feel bad about needing to stick with none. {hugs}
So. You feel guilty for not wanting four children.
Hi, crazy, it's nice to meet you.
Kidding. I get it.
But, four kids is a lot of work. My sister has four kids (two of them twins) and she's basically insane.
Hi. I saw the name of your blog on someone's blog roll, and I had to comment. I am a coal miner's granddaughter too. When I tell that to people they act shocked. As if coal miner's don't have descendants.
Anyway, nice to meet you. I am glad that you are not pregnant, since that is not what you wanted.
Why mess up a good thing? If three is good - three is good. Please tell me I don't have to start feeling guilty for all of the things I think about - just the things I act on that don't seem right. You? No problemo. IMO
Ditto everything you said, except it was last September for us. We were overseas, and I felt like I had a fever for those few days. Pure, white hot panic.
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