It's 5:00 in the morning and I've been wide awake for the last hour because I had an upsetting dream. I was pregnant. My partner wasn't thrilled about it but he was being supportive. I was very happy about it. I went into labor early and had to be rushed to the hospital. That's where the dream ended.
I felt so sad when I woke up. I'm just laying here thinking about why that is. I think I'm mourning that I'll never have a "normal" pregnancy, a "normal" birth, and a "normal" child. We get what we get in life, and we get it all for a reason. I believe that, and I wouldn't trade my life or my children for anyone else's, but I don't think I've really come to full acceptance yet.
Seven years, and I'm still grappling with the situation of my pregnancy and the boys' birth. In some ways I think the wounds ache more now then ever before. Maybe it's because I'm in a safe, supportive relationship now, in an emotional space where I'm able to feel these emotions and work through them. Maybe it's because I wish I could make a child with the wonderful man I'm with. I hate focusing on negatives, though. Maybe that's why its hard for me to accept that I have these feelings. I just want to be grateful for what I have. Sometimes it is so tempting to feel sorry for myself, and I just don't want to go there.
The truth is, I wanted a different path. I wanted to have a child while in a supportive, loving relationship. I wanted a healthy baby. I wanted to nurse. But beyond that...God, I love my children so fiercely. They are beautiful, healthy, smart, funny, and amazing. "Normal" isn't really a word in my family's vocabulary, anyway.
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