I had a moment last night when I couldn’t control the tears. And they fell in the worst moment. It started out sweet. My husband was being extra kind and loving – just comforting. Somehow the suggestion of an accidental (or not accidental) baby #2 came up and I spun out of control. In seconds I went from feeling so warm and loving to very, very cold.
I started thinking things like we can’t afford it (we had just been talking about our current income and what we hoped for the future – EXCUSE), we don’t have room (we live in a two bedroom home – EXCUSE), and that I would have to quit my job or risk losing my mind and ending our relationship – FEAR. Yep. That’s how this cookie crumbled. Utter defeat.
And then the guilt set in. The guilt of my son not having a sibling. The guilt that I am the one choosing that for him. I’m carrying that weight. Sure, my husband and I haven’t totally closed the door on not having another, but at this moment I know I cannot do it. I’m not confident that I will come out stronger in the end.
I. AM. SO. AFRAID.
- Afraid of having another c-section.
- Afraid of potential complications because I’ve had a c-section.
- Afraid of falling into depression again, and having to manage 2 children.
- Afraid of destroying my relationship with my husband because of said depression.
- Afraid of ruining the wonderful relationship with my son (and whatever child may come) as a result of said depression.
- Afraid of more/new food allergies.
- Afraid of possible developmental issues with potential baby 2 (since I am reaching the dreadful 35 when all the risks increase).
- Afraid of the stress and what that might also do to me mentally.
- Afraid of the anxiety I had.
- Afraid of the exhaustion that overwhelmed me.
- Afraid of being overwhelmed.
- Afraid I won’t smile again.
All of these fears and I’m not even pregnant! This is why I’m not ready. I don’t know if I ever will be, but I sure would like to be okay with the decision and not feel overwhelmed every time I’m asked, “When are you having another?”
I don’t think postpartum depression ever completely goes away. It just tucks itself into a little ball ready to unravel in different moments – but instead of looking like depression, it’s fear.