Lifes little decisions..

I honestly hadn't expected to feel this way. I was sure, being pregnant with Che, that I was done. And when we found out that Che was the much longed boy we had waited for (not that we would have been disappointed with a girl, or that we would have kept going until we got a boy), I felt more confident that Drew's decision to have a vasectomy was right. And I agreed.

There's a huge part of me that really is done. I hated being pregnant. In and out of hospitals, doctors surgery's, midwife clinics and physio. I found it difficult. Painful. Worse each time.
There is, however, an equally huge part of me that feels devastated. Really and truly. Stupid, I know.

The thing is, even if we could, I'm not sure I'd want to. I think it's more the fact that I know we can't. No possibility. Never.

Four, surely is enough? I like four. I wanted four. So why on earth do I feel this way?

Maybe it's my age? Maybe if I were older I wouldn't feel this way? Maybe I'm simply feeling jealous of my numerous friends who are currently expecting? But, I've had four! FOUR!! Beautiful babies.

I love being a Mum. I'll moan and I'll get fed up and stressed and lonely. But I bloody LOVE being a Mum.

I love the baby stage. Many don't, but I do.I have developed my own system over the past 7 years. It works for me. I feel confident. Relaxed.

I'm not addicted to having babies. I would never have agreed with the vasectomy if I were. This is not about having lots of babies. Like I said, I'm happy with four. I'm not sure I'd have ever wanted more. Ever.

I'm saying that I hate not having the option, now that it really isn't an option. And yes, I still can have children. Just not with Drew. Even if, God forbid, we ever split up, I'm still not saying that I would want to go through it all again. I just didn't realise that I'd feel so disappointed about it not being a possibility!

You may think I'm being totally and utterly stupid. And actually I'd have to agree! I feel stupid for thinking and feeling this. Seriously, I do! I just can't control this. And I hate that. With a passion.

I don't want to feel this way. I don't want to resent my decision. Although, in all truth, it was never really my decision to make. Drew was adamant that he didn't want anymore children. Not with me, not with anyone else, not ever. I respected that. I still respect that. That was his decision to make. And he made it. And I was fine with that. I know that he wouldn't have chosen to have four. He was happy to stop at three. I wanted four. He knew this. We had always said even numbers. He would have stopped. But he didn't. I think he's actually quite glad of that now he finally has someone to share pints of beer and football with.

The thing is.. If he had wanted another, I would have, in a heartbeat. Although if it were left down to me, I'm not sure I would have suggested it, ever! (and wanting even numbers certainly would have disappeared from my mind!)

This feeling will pass though. Won't it?

When all of the children are in full time school and I'm able to have a bit of 'freedom' from the confines of the house and pushchairs and nappies and get back into a full time job. When my days aren't filled with clicky toddler groups, and endless repeats of Cbeebies shows. When my nights aren't disturbed with feeds and nappies that could give the sewage works a run for their money. Surely, this feeling will pass?

The climb to that finishing line is going to be long, and hard. And maybe it will pass a lot sooner than that? (A girl's got to have a dream!) Maybe in six months time, you'll be reading this very blog and I'll have posted about how I'm so very glad that Drew had the vasectomy when he did, and that four really is enough and I never wanted more than that. Not then, not now, not ever. And I will be happy and content, at last.