It's been three months since Phoenix was brought into this world by surgery. It's been three months since I once again had by stomache cut, cauterized, stretched... had my baby suctioned out of me and was stitched back together. It's been three months since I held my teeny baby boy and fell totally and completely in love.
It's been three months since I first nursed my wee man. It's been dozens of nursings every day and almost as many diapers. It's been millions of kisses and tons of coo's. It's been three months since I had my last baby.
My. last. baby.
I'm at a point in my life that I never thought I would come to. A point where I feel complete within myself and full with the children I have. It's strange though to think that I will never give life to another person. I will never feel another baby stir within my body, I will never dream about giving birth vaginally, I will never have another newborn to nurse.
I'm okay with it. I think.
My little man is getting so big and so NOT newbornish. He's laughing now. He's smiling and grabbing things with his fat little paws. He kicks and rolls over sometimes. He's everything I ever needed him to be.
Jeff's vasectomy is October 20. He won't be cancelling this time.
That's hard to take. It's just so... permenant.
How come some women who honestly DO NOT CARE whether they have c-sections or not have the most easy, quick vaginal births? And when I have so desperately wanted to give birth naturally THREE FUCKING TIMES and I never have?
I feel cheated. I feel bitter. I feel sad.