Eighteen months ago I called my mother asking, "how will I know when I'm done having babies?" She answered, "when you look around the room... and nobody is missing from your family." Tonight my heart is raw, but nevertheless I am done. My surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning at 9:30.
There's no right response, but here's a few of the wrong ones I've gotten.
Well sure, of course you are. No, I wasn't.
Oh? Good for you! (and moves on like the weather is more important) Really? Nothing about this feels good. Right, maybe, but not good.
Or worst of all if my face gives me away, I get the look back of but you're already a single mom of three. Yeah. I am.
Of course I have gotten the why rush it? You're only 30 and you're still a pretty girl. Oh! Well in that case. Ugh.
You know what? Even if Prince Charming himself showed up, I will never allow myself to get that close again. And over my dead body will I fight my children out twice. Not to mention, what if I let Prince Charming in and he gets hit by a bus? I know I can handle raising my 3 children on my own. I also know my limit is 3.
But. 18 months ago when I called my mother seeking answers did I see myself going in for surgery alone tomorrow? Shipping my babies off to X for a 4 day weekend so I could lay in bed and cry from pain and broken dreams? Hell no. In a rare turn of events, he hugged me tonight and told me he was praying for me. I can't tell you what that cost me. I wanted to shove him away and tell him I don't need you, like he doesn't need me because his new girlfriend fills the spot. But DAMN it, I did.