My baby was in my arms nursing and I cried. He looked up at me and gave a confused grimace. I told him I loved him and it wasn’t because of him.
It started out as a few tears silently cascading down my face and transformed into full blown sobs.
My son kept his little hand on mine, peaceful and asleep.
Today I cried.
I cried because of..
The burden of infertility. The heaviness still weighs me down. I long for another child. I want to be a mother of two.
The missed chance of conception without treatment. I’m down one tube. Our odds are even lower than when we started.
The pain and heartache.
The scars and surgeries.
The Angel watching down on us.
The birth that wasn’t what I desired, how my son was forced to enter this world – even if we agreed to the approach.
My completely transformed vagina. Learning to unfold yourself as a sexual goddess and a new mother is a challenging feat. I’m not ready yet.
The resentment within me that has boiled up and over many times on this journey.
The wondering and questioning.
The struggle to balance between masculine and feminine energies.
The fact that this era allows women so much freedom, yet so much constraint.
When my husband just doesn’t get it, even though he does. He just doesn’t like to show it.
Every other woman longing for a child or facing the decision to have another.
Labels. Blame. Misrepresentation.
Unnecessary silence. Unsaid thoughts.
Gratefulness. I know we are blessed.
Tears of joy washed away what felt like soot stains from grief, anger, jealousy, and sadness.
Sometimes I just need to cry.