Last night, Hubs and I were at dinner and apparently someone sitting near us had a baby because I caught the very faintest whiff of a brand new Pampers diaper. Those of you who've used them know the scent I'm talking about. It's hard to describe to those who haven't, but it's a smell I remember from my childhood when my siblings were first having their babies and I remember being excited about growing up and having my own babies someday. I would always use Pampers because that's what you were supposed to use, right? Anyway, as I sat there last night and caught the scent in the air, I burst into tears.
Why?
I'm done with having babies - have been for fifteen years, mind you. I don't want any more babies and haven't for quite some time, but I guess the finality of it all hit me knowing that this surgery takes the choice of having one out of my hands. Not that my bum uterus could handle another pregnancy even if I did get my tubes untied, but the option was always mine, you know?
Thankfully, Hubby just held my hands while I cried and nodded in understanding. He's a super trooper like that.
Now, fast forward to this morning when I woke up to the fourth period I've had since the middle of last month. The woman I am today, kinda wants to strangle that emo bitch I was last night.
I'm so fucking over this already.
20 days and counting.
No comments:
Post a Comment