So very rarely in life have I ever felt any type of regrets. I always felt that the Universe did things for a reason and even if I did not, could not, would not, understand it I would just go with the flow. I could wait on explanations. But lately, I’ve felt betrayed. Both by my mind and by my body. By what I believed to be true. It’s been eight months since I went to sleep and then awoke to no longer having a uterus. It’s been eight months that I have not had daily pain in my life. I am no longer doubled over the bathroom sink wishing the waves of pain would.just.stop. I am no longer laying in bed, day after day, aftraid to bend at the stomach for the cramping will begin and there was no end in sight. I am no longer dreading that time of the month where for three to five days I felt like I was giving birth all over again. Add to that that I acted like a USDA-grade-A-bitch.

It’s also been eight months where every day passes by and I’m filled with dread and regret. I’m filled with hopelessness that I will never again have a baby. It’s not that Shawn and I are regretful of not having more children. It’s a purely selfish act on my part. My motherly instincts are on overload when we trek through the infant/toddler section of department stores. The tininess of the outfits. The crisp new smell of a never worn before Onesie. Or the mixed smells of sweet soaps, all natural lotions, and unscented diaper wipes. They say they are unscented, but they are. They smell like the sweet newness of a baby just born. Where you can nestle your nose into the cozy of their neck. Their hair. Their hands. Their back. You can smell the faint scent of sweat, especially when they are tucked into a blanket, snuggling with you. Being suffocated by your motherly ways. So easy to be lost in a baby. To learn from them. You do not teach them, they teach you. They open you in ways that you can never imagine, so you dare not try.

I made sure to enjoy every single moment of Scout’s babyhood. I bathed her in warm water. I dried her with new, fluffy towels. I lathered shea butter lotion on her bare little body and told her, “No more dirty bird”. I inhaled her. I consumed her. I held her to my breast even when she indicated she was full. I held her in my arms when she slept. I kept her close by every moment of the day for fear that I might miss something. A cry. A laugh. Anything. Somehow, two years passed by. I continue to use the shea butter lotion. It’s the only scent that can take me back to those first few weeks. When she needed me and only me.

Now I go to bed regretting my decision. A little more pain for another baby certainly seems a bargain. But hindsight is 20/20. I can not make deals, though I would given the chance. I wish I had been less selfish then so that I could be more selfish now. If it were only so easy.

My creationScout


9 thoughts on “Regrets

  1. Your writing has gotten so beautiful to read. I’m so sorry that you are feeling this regret. Just look at your beautiful kids and know that you are so blessed. I hope that this regret lessens over time for you. I know for me, that the longing for more kids lessened and have almost 100% gone away. Thinking of you.

  2. Oh boy, those are very powerful feelings. I am happy to read that you revel in your child and that you are such a good mom. I have read somewhere that every single decision we make carries a loss, even if we have to choose from two positive choices it still means we have to give up the other choice and the journey that would have come with it. Your choice that you made will have its own positive journeys I am certain of that. HUGS, big hugs.

  3. Boy does this post really speak to me. I’m 43 years old and 25 weeks pregnant. This baby is due to be born by c-section and I have been offered the option of being sterilized at the same time as the birth. This was always intended to be my last baby and I know that I would struggle to cope if I had another one. So sterilization is a great option. But I can’t get rid of a nagging feeling that I might regret it afterwards.
    I hope the regret will diminish over time. I guess you just have to feel blessed for the family that you have, and that you now feel much better, and presumably have regained a part of your life that was stolen from you by being in so much pain each month.

  4. I’m so sorry for your regrets. I can’t have any idea of what you’re going through, but maybe, like you said about other things in life, this is what’s meant to be. Try not to feel overwhelmed & love your little sweetheart all the more 🙂 Thanks so much for sharing with us. We’re all here for you! Feel better! >>hugs<<

  5. such a touching, honest post. i love reading your blog. you have such a wonderful voice. i know this must be difficult for you. i wish you peace.

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