But life is changing. Life on a level that is hard to put into words, but I will try.
Life that begins as a child impatiently waiting for that one particular right of passage, the sign of having finally become a woman. The thought that life could be carried inside mine was always something that filled me with such contentment. I felt whole. I could be a mother I thought. Of course this wouldn't be fulfilled until many years later but it was something I could not wait to have happen to me. And when it did with our first child, she truly made me the person I always longed to be, a mother. And for a while, a damn good mother. I was pleased with what I did with her, how hard I loved her and how I would empty my soul on her behalf.Sickness set in not long after she was born. But having a newborn made me move past whatever pain I was experiencing, because at the end of the day I saw this angelic-like-china-doll baby. She was mine, all mine and I couldn't believe it.
Life grew even richer when her sister joined the world. I feared the kind of mother I would be with another little one in tow. Juggling two is sometimes an emotional battle I still fight daily. Do I give too much attention to one and not the other? Am I kind enough to one, or too tough on the other? Up and down, around and around, life spins each day with one question leading to another. Am I a good mother to two children? I am trying, but at times I think failing. Sickness has sucked my spirit up and at times I fear, devoured it. But there are sunny days where I find out that my spirit of love is still there and fighting to get through. However, despite knowing my limitations full and well, occasional dreams of the past come bubbling forward. Dreams I have tried to extinguish on many occasions. But knowing the possibility was still there made it bearable.
And now that possibility is coming to an end.
How does a woman mourn the loss of what makes her unique? Of what makes her special amongst men who walk the earth with all their strong manliness? How does she mourn the loss that life could be carried within her? One day she bares a belly-full with another heart beating inside her and the next there's a real little person to hold onto that is breathing, crying, living, continuing the circle of life.
However, I think it's more than that. It's the strange disregard for the fist sized organ that made me a mother in the first place. It's the ripping it out and tossing it aside without so much of even a thank you. So for me...... while the Dr works to remove a part of me that now causes pain, I'm certain as I count backwards from ten while they place the mask over my face, tears of appreciation for the 77 weeks (collectively) of precious protection it gave my babies will flow from my eyes.
So when it's all said & done and March 1st at 11am has come and gone, I know that I am not losing what makes me a woman. I'm still me. I am simply recreating myself. Finding myself to freedom. Finding a way to not live in fear of unnecessary pain. Not that pain will be gone from my life, but pain that *maybe* in one area of my body, I don't have to have anymore. Sitting here not doing anything won't fix the problem. So I have to roll the dice. I may win, I may even lose. But if I don't try I will never know. And as far as dreams go I've had the most important ones fulfilled, which was to become a mother to two beautifully different and wonderfully whimsical daughters. And for that, I am eternally grateful.