We had moved to a new town.
Packed everything we owned to chase a dream of fame and fortune in a desolate area surrounded by dried up lakes that once were tourist attractions. Huge mountains that people came from far and wide to camp and climb.
Head office. Amoungst the farmland. Hours away from anything.
Within days of unpacking, my baby, still a baby, diagnosed with Autism.
Grief for the life I had back home.
Grief for the life he could have had.
Grief for my what my life could become. And that of his sisters, future caretakers.
No more babies MPS. I can’t go through this again. I can’t do this to another child. I need to devote my life to him.
OK.
So he did what any loving husband would do. He decided to have a vasectomy. Cause I had been through enough.
Appointment booked, he went alone. No one to watch Boo. The girls in school.
‘Why do you want a vasectomy at your age?’ asks the doctor.
Autism.
Booked into surgery the next day. It is all for the best. We don’t need the worry of pregnancy again. Of that appointment at the paediatrician. I can’t do that again.
4, 5, 6 years later.
I grieve.
I grieve for the babies that could have been. Their soft skin. Smelling so sweet. That spot at the back of their necks that draws me in every time. I ache.
Kneejerk reaction.
If the doctor just asked me, he would have seen.
I was not ready to be done.
{ 49 comments… read them below or add one }
i don’t have any words
*hug*
Not very long ago I came across a phrase about how I could try and get people to understand our own situation.
Try and get them to ‘walk a little in your footsteps’, I use this over and over again now.
I have to also try to apply it to situations I don’t fully understand.
Our footprints are different sizes, and coming from different directions, but overlap at a certain point.
Longing is longing, no matter what you already have or have not.
Our longing has taken over our days in ways I could never have imagined but we can always hope.
You have made brave decisions regarding yours, for real reasons, out of real love.
Brave and good reasons.
Maybe ‘awe’ isn’t so far fetched after all.
Oh Kel,
We made the decision not to have any more babies after D because of his severe reflux, my PND and the fact that we’d needed a huge amount of fertility treatment to even get pregnant in the first place. Even knowing that it is a “good” decision not to have any more babies I still long to have a little one of my own again.
I’m just doing my best to treasure every moment of them being the age they are because there’s no going back.
Big hugs from here
Oh hun.
((hugs))
{{{{{Kel}}}}}
I remember as a teenager my Mum’s friend having a hysterectomy when her 6th child was still a toddler and people commenting that she should just ‘get over it’ because she had 6 kids and two were ‘handfuls.’ I never got it until I had trouble conceiving and was then told that I should stop after two as they just got bigger.
But I do get you and your grief and your pain and your yearning. Take care.
no words here either.
just *hugs*
I so get it. I ache too. Different circumstances and reasons, but the ache is the same.
Sending a hug, ‘cos I need one too 🙂
(((((((hugs))))))))
Ouch.
What is it about babies that gets us?
Oh Kel,
I get it too.
I would dearly love more but for our own reasons we won’t.
It doesn’t stop that longing. Ever.
Hugs, babe, that’s all i’ve got.
Yes.
(((hugs)))
We did the same thing, but w/o your diagnosis. We had two and that was enough for us. But there are times where I want another, but live through the babies of friends and family.
i totally get this. from a different direction, but i get it.
until you’re done, you’re just not DONE.
hugs.
Oh sweety. I’ve heard vasectomies can be reversed… maybe something to look into?
((hugs))
Powerful post. It is amazing what can be expressed in so few words. Less is more…
I can’t pretend to understand your pain, but if it’s worth anything, you have someone a million miles away who hears you, feels for you and sends you a big hug.
My tears are for you. After my second child was born 14 months after my first, my husband and I decided we couldn’t handle another child. Two so close was just too much. My son is now 9 months old and I know we did the sensible thing, but I’m sad that the option no longer exists for us.
Just so Marilyn knows, yes, vasectomies CAN be reversed, but often times, many of the sperm produced in a man’s body are deformed by his immune system. A vasectomy does not stop sperm production – and those little puppies have to go SOMEWHERE, so the immune system takes care of the problem.
As for you, Kelley, my heart aches for you. I love you so much and I really can’t bear to think of you in pain – especially that kind of pain. Woman pain. Mother pain. Empty pain. That is real anguish.
I had a vasectomy after Zach was born. Not because we were aware of any problem with our child, but because further pregnancy would be a threat to Annie’s health. I wondered for a long time, about the babies I might still have been able to father, about who they might have been and what they might have done or become. So I understand – a little. Just a little. It must be so much, much worse for a woman.
Just hug the ones you have. real tight.
I do understand.
I was only able to make this decision myself this year (turned out to be a disaster and the old boy won’t need vasectom-ing after all).
I made the decision for a similar reason – two very ‘different’ boys – and an 85% chance of another boy (of ours) being ADHD. Even still I couldn’t make the decision until now – I knew I would grieve and regret it.
I think it’s a lot about ‘knowing’ you can’t – rather than choosing not to.
We are friends with a couple – he had a vasectomy at age 23!! I’m not kidding!!! They had both of their daughters by then and decided that was enough. Of course they changed their minds later and a vasectomy reversal – 18 months of trying they had another daughter. I often wonder if he hadn’t had the vasectomy would they have gone back for a third child?
*Hugs*
G
xx
I’m not sure if anything particular happened to make you feel this way, but I hope you’re able to find peace with your decisions again soon hun.
i think, from a different place, i understand. part of me thinks that after all of the pregnancies that my body’s been through, and the only one child i have to show for them…and how hard the last time was and how close to seriously ill i was…but me, i want more. one day.
but i’m at the crossroads where i’m thinking that i shouldn’t. so i’m already mourning. but um, the whole point was to say, i care and kinda get it.
this post made my heart hurt..
Okay, you’re not supposed to make me cry…I come here to laugh!
But I know, I know, I know. Not entirely for the same reasons, but autism is a factor in my family too.
I always want just ONE more.
I am so sorry.
Oh Kell!!!!!
If I was on the other side of the planet, I would hug you until your oh-so-stylish shoes popped right off!
I’m sorry.
I have no other words except that your words made me feel for you and your pain.
I’m sorry.
Beautiful post.
(((HUGS))) I can completely understand how you feel
{{hug}}
I understand… I’ve always wanted one more, autism sucks.
Oh love 🙁
There is nothing to say. All I can do is send my love and lots of squeezies.
xoxoxo
I’m with you honey. I did the deed myself at 34. I thought I was done. I really did.
And I’m sorry I did.
Two things occurred to my daughter the other day – the one who has a 7-year-old autistic son. 1. She really couldn’t have a baby with Jaylen in the house. She is single and Jaylen has no awareness that he might cause pain or injury to another. And because of this, 2. She will never be a grandmother. She didn’t really want to have any more babies, but it gave her a jolt, that grandmother thing. We mostly automatically assume that will be a part of our lives.
I’m sorry Kelley. Beautifully written.
*huggggggggg* 🙁
Oh honey, you made my heart ache. I feel your pain, truly I do (in a way that’s not exactly the same but that elicited similar feelings in me).
And this right after you made me LMAO in your most recent comment to me. I hope I gave you a giggle today. 🙂
Babe, I came here for a laugh at your awesomeness and hot shoes, instead I heard my own heart.
We decided after CD no more. We did nothing as I am meant to be medically infertile and surprise !!! WGO. Not on the spectrum.
But I remember the feeling that I had not finished after CD. And it aches.
((hugs))
So sad. I had to step into the kitchen and turn the dinner on so hubby wouldn’t see me blinking back tears. Mmm newborn babies……….
For my own reasons, my heart hurts for you while loving you for such an honest glimpse inside something that close to the core. No words are really adequate because I’m not in your shoes and you aren’t in mine, but ouch and ouch and hugs.
xxxxxx
Try to look to the future…there will be grandbabies some day…to hug, love til the cows come home…to make you glorify in being the best mother on the planet….I have a huge shoulder…feel free to use it…hugs
Been here three times trying to write a comment, but I can’t seem to get the words out right. So…hugs.
I want to tell you that I understand, but I can’t.
I don’t want this to sound selfish, but I know it will. I long for the child I will never have.
You are blessed.
Feeling much the same way lately. I was sure I wuld feel done after #4. Why don’t I? And why does it hurt so much that I won’t have more?
Oh wow, Kellie… This is very sad. (((((HUGS)))))
Oh. That made my heart break. I only wish there was something I could say that would make you feel better.
Oh Kelley, every time you write these deep posts, you show a side that is just so raw and vulnerable. I love it. Love you.
::::sniff:::
I’m not ready to be done yet, either. But I’ll be 43 on my next birthday, so I think the decision’s been made for me. Just my luck I didn’t meet my children’s father until my 30’s.
Oh Kel, I don’t even have words to express how sorry I am. I am not in your position because we don’t have any biological children of our own yet, but we do want them badly. I really hope you get through this, and know that you have so many hugs coming your way from all over this slowly suffocating globe 🙂
I have this. But I held a friend’s newborn this weekend, and borrowed a little magic from her. It was a lovely afternoon. And at the end? I gave the baby back and went home to a full night’s sleep.
Sleep cannot be overrated.
But I ache for you as you hurt….
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