I know I have mentioned my daughters before, but let’s spend a minute talking about the kids. My husband and I have always had the belief that kids do not need to be lied to or have things “dumbed down” for them. So, in terms that they could understand (they are six and four) we explained what was going to happen this year. We explained that Mommy has this tiny little thing inside her that could possibly make her very sick in the future and that having these two surgeries would reduce that risk and we wouldn’t have to worry about it. They seemed satisfied with that and just seemed concerned with how long I would be in the hospital and if it would hurt afterwards. As much as I want my husband with me in the hospital, I think it is best that he stay home with them and keep their lives as normal as possible until I come home. We also explained the wonders of pain killers and that I would have to rest, but the medicine would get rid of the pain.
After that conversation, I thought we were done. But as we get closer, more questions come up. Way back, before my husband and I were married or even engaged, we knew we wanted a family but wanted to agree on the number of children we would have. We both were on the same page and knew that we would have two. Two boys, two girls, one of each, it didn’t matter. We wanted to keep man to man defense and did not want to play zone once we were outnumbered. We were blessed with two beautiful little girls and a week after my youngest was born, my husband went in for the ole’ snip snip. There has never been a second of regret and we are both happy with the decision. Neither of our kids ever asked for more siblings. But for the past couple months, one or both of them will casually mention the fact that they’d like a baby brother. After my little one was born, I never wanted another baby and still don’t, but it is slightly disconcerting to have the very organ that grew my babies removed permanently. I don’t feel like “less of a woman” for losing the ability to conceive and grow a child. After all, for the past four years it has been impossible to get pregnant anyway, with my husband going through a vasectomy. I had the honor of carrying and birthing two little angels and I am content with that. It is an odd feeling to know that I won’t even have the option, though. This morning, as we were eating our Sunday blueberry muffins, was the last time they asked about a sibling and after some explaining (while carefully avoiding the “where do babies come from?” question. I am SO not ready for that conversation yet) I think they finally get that it won’t be happening. They are best buds and came to the realization that they just want it to be the two of them anyway.
The point of this post isn’t to whine and make people feel sorry for me. I am ready and would do the surgery tomorrow if I could. My point is that if you are going through this, you can talk to your kids. They understand so much more than we think. It has helped to make them feel useful and give them a job. They have decided that the oldest will do all of the cooking (she wants to be a singing, scientist chef when she grows up after all) and the youngest will take care of our dog. I am interested to see what the six year old cooks. They know that they will have to give gentle cuddles and have concluded that they need to make get well cards every day to help me get better. I am so lucky to have the family that I have. If I feel just a second’s trepidation about this whole process, I think of my girls and revel in the fact that I will be around to watch them grow up and have their own babies. Because if there’s possibly anything better than having kids, it’s having grandkids and I definitely want to be around for that.