Well, after my surgery I thought I’d try a little experiment and stop taking the Met. Initially I lost 10 pounds in the first two weeks post-op. I was elated! I thought I had finally broke the IR curse. But I seem to be wrong, and it is looking like I’m nearly back where I started. I’ve continued the diet and exercise, but the weight is coming back. I had so hoped to be free of meds, but it looks like I need to go back on the Met. Argh. But if I don’t, I’m terrified I’m going to gain it all back, not to mention the increased risk for diabetes. So I guess I don’t have much of a choice.
To top it off, we’ve got some serious baby fever. I thought we were good to go there too, all comfy with our three. But then I saw a pic of a brand new babe, and it hit me again. Well crap. Now what? Let it roll and see if it goes away? But if I do that I’m afraid we’ll get 10 years down the road, it’ll be too late and we’ll regret it. But at the same time, we are comfortable now.
So what’s a girl to do? I just don’t know, and that’s what kills me. I mean, shouldn’t I get the chance to rock my baby to sleep? Shouldn’t I have to opportunity to be the first one they call mommy? I know, it’s more of the same, but I just can’t help but think that if I never have a baby, I’ll look back when I’m older and feel regret. Not for the children I have, but for the one(s) I never had.
When I was a child my grandma had Alzheimer’s. By the time I was 8 she rarely knew who I was and lived in a world of her past. By my 11th birthday she was lost to me, never to recognize me again. I can’t tell you what that feels like. To have a woman so vital in your life, who is the keeper of so many of your own memories, have no idea who you are. When I was really little, she lived with us for awhile. I remember waking up in the night, after having a bad dream, and seeing her light on, I would go and climb in bed with her. Together we would snuggle down under the covers and she would regale me with stories of how loud my grandpa used to snore. Pretty soon we were in our own fit of giggles having a snoring contest, the bad dream forgotten. It wasn’t all that long after those memories were made that she no longer could recall them. But what she could recall, what always stayed with her, was holding her babies. Those last couple of years I rarely saw her without a baby doll in her arms, rocking and cooing the child of her past. And I can’t help but think about my own future. If I find myself lost in my past, where will be my baby?