A gift and a trial

I have to write about something that's been eating at me for a while. I hope I can do so succinctly and clearly; I suspect I will probably fail, however. It's a difficult subject for me to write about, being very emotionally charged, and it will probably cause some strong emotions in some of my readers as well. I apologize for any adverse effect my words may have, but I cannot apologize for the feelings behind them, because if I did I would also have to apologize for being human and that would be condemning Someone who-- of all beings-- is and always will be above reproach.

I have three boys-- three beautiful, intelligent, amazing children. They are the joy of my life, as well as-- so it feels at times-- the bane of my existence. But I love my children. I am glad I had them. I would not trade them for anything.

Whenever I think of having any more, however, I can hardly stand the thought. It stresses me out. I've reached my limit, my maximum capacity, and doggone it can I just be done already? Pretty please?

I'm done. Sooooo done. I've had my babies. Now, I'd just like to be able to enjoy raising them and watching them grow up. The idea of being a "new mother" over and over and over again does not appeal to me. At all.

Mother Nature begs to differ with me. Because I-- apparently-- have been blessed with the perfect body for conceiving, bearing, and nurturing babies. Conceiving when I wanted to conceive has never been an issue for me. My pregnancies, while far from pleasant, have also been a relative breeze compared to those experienced by other women of my acquaintance. When breastfeeding, I have always had an abundant supply and strong, eager nurselings. I delivered three big babies vaginally-- two drug-free-- and one weighing over eleven pounds.

Any woman who has struggled with infertility, difficult pregnancies, complicated labor, or a myriad of breastfeeding challenges, would no doubt tell me that I have been blessed with an incredible gift.

So why would I want to throw that gift away?

To be honest, I don't. I just wish there were some way I could share it when I wanted to, with other women who-- quite frankly-- would probably do a better job raising their children than I do but who through no fault of their own have been unable to have children of their own to raise. Why, if I feel unequal to the task myself, can it not be acceptable for me to have babies for someone else instead? I'd do it, too, if only I weren't so worried about the accompanying feelings of guilt and trying to explain to such a baby why I kept three babies and decided to give him (or her) away, even if by doing so he would be given every conceivable advantage versus staying to be raised by me. And while I realize the craziness of ever acting on the thought (especially considering I am not an unwed or teen mom but rather in a committed monogamous relationship with a loving and supportive parental companion) , the fact that I'd even consider it maybe tells you how desperate I am for some relief from constantly bearing and-- more specifically-- caring for one baby after another.

If anyone had asked me, as a youth, to try and guess what my biggest trials might be as an adult, I never ever would have thought to say "having too many children." On the contrary, I thought I wanted at least half a dozen. I had no idea...

As I stated before, when I think about adding more children to our family, I feel so stressed and overwhelmed and utterly incapable. On the flipside, whenever I tell myself it's okay to be done if I need to be, I feel a sense of peace and contentment that is difficult to ignore.

At other times, however, I think about quitting and I just feel so sad and guilty. Mostly because I start thinking about all those women out there-- several of whom I know personally and love deeply-- who would practically die to be in my shoes and would probably be shocked if they heard that I harbored so much angst over having more children when they had struggled or were still struggling to have just one child to call their own. Who might even feel anger at the confession that there have been days where I would seriously consider trading places with them (moving forward, of course; because I would never want to give away the children I already have).

And this is where I begin to question myself. And the biggest question is, WHY? Why do I feel so strongly that I want to be done?

After baby #2, the answer would have been easy. Baby #2 was so hard on me, psychologically speaking. I believe I suffered from post-partum depression and anxiety, which led-- for a time-- to feelings of doubt in my ability as a mother to more than one child, as well as feelings of detachment and resentment towards my second son which-- happily-- eventually went away, but the lingering effects of that psychologically imbalanced period continue to haunt me at times even three years later.

All through my pregnancy with #3, I worried that the same thing might happen again. I did everything I could to prepare myself psychologically for the new addition to our family, and all the new challenges he might bring with him. Well apparently I did a pretty good job (or just got lucky), because at six months post-partum I feel pretty darn good (most of the time). And of all my babies, so far I have enjoyed #3 the most.

As a matter of fact, I have thoroughly enjoyed each of my boys, strictly one-on-one. But it's been the combination of all three that I find to be so difficult. At least this time around I feel more up to the challenge, and I can see a possible "light at the end of the tunnel" which was completely hidden to me before after baby #2. It's not so bad, most of the time. I can handle it, but only thanks to an amazing support system consisting mainly of my husband, my in-laws, and the occasional friend or church member (which are often one-and-the-same). I'm glad my boys will be able to grow up together, close enough in age to be able to relate to each other and enjoy doing things together.

But it has been hard. Hard to be patient. Hard to stay calm. Hard to be loving and nurturing. Hard to be cheerful. Hard to be everywhere at once, attending to more than one need at a time, finding that balance. Many days, amazingly, I do fairly well. But other days are living nightmares and I get to the end of the day (or even just halfway) feeling like a complete and utter failure to my children.

I just never want to go through this again. And if I ever have another baby-- if I get my way-- it will be at least five-seven years from now, and it will be just one (preferably a girl). And if I have another one after that, it will be another five or so years beyond that. You get the idea.

But then, what if God has other plans? And that is why I figure I really have this trial in my life to begin with. Because I still have not fully learned to trust in Him. That He knows what I need most in my life and when I need it. And I am having a very hard time relinquishing what little control I feel I have over the course of my life.

If I finally came to embrace His plan for me, do you think He might let me be done? ;)