I had a little meltdown tonight. I’ve been doing really, really well with the whole absence of my internal organs thing (Jon and I lovingly refer to my empty belly as the Void-said in the same way that half the nation’s phones say Droid). I mean, I’ve done well. I’ve taken everything in stride. I knew when I went under the knife that even though we were planning on saving one of my ovaries, there was a chance that both would go. I even had to put in my own writing what that meant on my pre-op forms. I knew that there was a chance that when it all was said and done, it really would all be done. And when my doc came to visit me in post-op recovery, I wasn’t all that surprised when she said they had to take both. I knew, deep down that there was nothing but mass chaos in there, and never had that much faith in the little monsters that had caused me so much heartache in the first place. So I’ve done pretty well. I was prepared, as much as I could be, and I’ve been alright. I haven’t had many moments of real regret, and I don’t know that that’s what I would label tonight, and I’ve really done (in my ever humble opinion, fan-freaking tastic, all things considered).
So tonight, the hubs and I were playing Easter bunny, packaging Starburst Jelly beans (the absolute best) in little plastic eggs, and covering our couch in pastel plastic. When we’d finished pushing the beans, I leaned forward to start putting the goods in the basket and one of the eggs rolled behind me. Jokingly, my hubby grabbed it and said “Look, you laid and egg!” Not to miss a beat I replied with a laugh “I don’t have any eggs!”. And then it hit me. No really, I don’t. I don’t have any eggs any more. I don’t have any ovaries, so I don’t have any eggs. I don’t have half of chromosomal parts to pass on to a child. There will NEVER be a person on this earth with half of my DNA makeup. Ever. Not one. I had come to terms with the fact that I would never carry a child, and I knew that I wouldn’t go for a surrogate, but it hadn’t really hit me like that before. And I melted. The words came out of my mouth, my eyes went wide with recognition, and I fell into a puddle, my amazing husband wrapping me in his arms.
Oi vey. I’m not sure what brought it on. There are a couple possibilities, to be sure. I’m surrounded by new babes, oohing over one just yesterday, and went to a lovely baby shower today. But I had self-checked after each event and found myself feeling great. Even yesterday when shopping for the shower with my oldest and she said we needed to adopt a baby, I was ok with thinking that wasn’t likely going to happen. And honestly I think I am. Which is why tonight is such a shock to my system. I still feel absolutely drained. Betrayed by my body.
So, I’m taking it one breath at a time. I’ve stopped crying (for the moment-can’t even blame it on hormones, dang it all) and found some stellar spots for hiding Easter baskets. And I guess that’s all I can do. So I’ll put myself to bed, as tomorrow is Easter and the Son Rise service comes early, and pray that I’ll feel better in the morning. The thing is, when I get like this, I just don’t even want to go out. I know that going to the service tomorrow I’ll be surrounded by at least 2 brand new babes, and I really don’t want to be in a puddle at church. I mean, I’m spiritual and all, but I’m not the sobber in the service! 🙂 But I can do it. One breath at a time. My first eggless Easter.
p.s.: I borrowed this picture from Free Wallpapers HQ