After four pregnancies, one miscarriage, one Cesarean
section, two vaginal births and three healthy babies, I am done having
children. My reproductive days are over.
I will never be pregnant again.
About this, I am not ambivalent. I am ecstatic about
it. I do not want any more children, I do not want to be pregnant again, and I am more than happy (and sometimes overwhelmed) with my three beautiful children.
But when I consider what this really means—that I will
not only never be pregnant again but also never be the mother of a baby again—I’m a bit more ambivalent. In fact, my
thoughts often run in a stream of deeply ambivalent consciousness whenever I ponder
my baby-less future.
never have to experience another labor contraction or Cesarean recovery!
I also never get to experience the earth-rupturing joy of bringing new life
into the world.
I will never again experience the specific stillness of those nighttime
feedings: the moments when it felt as if there was only my baby and me and the
darkness and the quiet, while the rest of the world slept.
will never again be the mother of a baby! Never ever again.
nipples and lochia and colic will never again be personal concerns!
milk-drunk smiles and gurgly coos and baby giggles will never again be daily
will never be asked to cherish every moment with my baby (or toddler)!
I will never again have moments to cherish as the mother of baby (or yes,
even a toddler).