I don't know how many times I have said it, but I'll say it again - I'm so glad I do not have a uterus anymore. I usually utter this sentence upon seeing a divine little newborn human being, as I did yesterday whilst at the local shopping centre. Andrew was sitting next to me in the hairdressers, whilst we were wrangling the four kids and trying our hardest to keep our shit together whilst one niggled at another, and the four year old was trying desperately to break one of the chairs. I saw the newborn bundle and my insides ached. I'm assuming the part that was aching, is the big black hole where once my womb lived? The same part that grew five (well, only four of them "successfully") human beings. The part that gave me so much joy, but also so much pain. Andrew gave me a look when I said it. You know - THE look. The "are you fucking crazy" look?
I fear if I still had my uterus I would have continued to churn out babies like nobody's business. I would have put up with the morning all day sickness, the burst blood vessels in my eyelids from heaving so violently. I would have gone through the trials and tribulations of gestational diabetes, paying $3 a day for a sugar free chocolate bar, just to get my "fix". I would have bitched and moaned about how much I hate being pregnant, but in the next breath, declare how thrilled I was to have another baby on the way. I would have put up with the agony of a shot pelvis. The embarrassment of having to be pushed around the shops in a wheelchair - for I could not walk longer than 10 minutes without the pain becoming overwhelming. Yep - I would have gone through all of that, over and over - just for that amazing feeling of elation when you have that gooey, strange little bundle of joy in your arms.
Sigh.
I'm so very thankful, however, that I don't have that option any longer. My body waved the white flag and I surrendered. I am so very happy with my tribe. Only a matter of weeks ago I told one of my best friends that I was happy I did not have to go through the up's and down's of a new baby. The elation of its arrival, and the deep desperation for sleep. An hour later, she told me she was pregnant! Problem solved. I can live vicariously through my friends. I am finally the one who can offer to babysit. I am on the precipice of some form of freedom.
I'm almost on the other side. 2013 will be dishing out time. For me. For the first time in more than 14 years, I will have more than a fleeting couple of hours to myself on a regular basis. In fact - I will have TWO WHOLE DAYS A WEEK! When this occurred to me a few months ago, I said to Andrew I could pick up some extra work. And then I found my head and screwed it back on and slapped myself. Those two days a week are going to be filled with lots of nothing. I am not planning anything. I'm winging it! (Ok, I'm being hopeful, but I really AM planning on doing lots of random shit that is totally unplanned)
So, as I patiently await the arrival of numerous bundles of joy, from a lovely array of friends, I will be busily not planning what I will be doing next year. I will be filling my diary with play dates, of the grown up variety. I may finally remember what it is like to go a whole day without having to feed someone else, change the channels constantly and figure out why Barbie's shoes won't stay on or translate Dora's antics! Hola!!