I'm overwhelmed with it lately. I've stopped thinking about "when" I'll feel ready to have another baby. I'm starting to think of how fucking terrifying it will be once I get there again. The crippling fear of the unknown. Yes, it will be my second time around, but that doesn't make it any less scary.
Being that my son was born via c-section (notice I didn't say "I gave birth," because I didn't. Yes, my son was "born" but not "birthed." He was torn from my womb.), there are so many risks that scare me stiff. What if my doctor didn't stitch me up strong enough? (I'm STILL waiting on the rest of my medical records.) What if the weight and pressure of the baby is too much for my uterus and uterine scar to take? What if my uterus ruptures? Or if everything goes well with the pregnancy and health of the baby, what if the stress of labor is too much for my uterus to take and I have uterine rupture while attempting my vbac? There are so many "what if's."
I know it's completely useless to worry myself as much as I do when that time is not even close to "here." If all goes according to (my) plan, I won't be pregnant or get pregnant until sometime late next Spring or early Summer, at the very earliest. So why am I worrying, right?
I guess the truth is...I can't help it. I can't help myself. I've always been a "planner" and I hate feeling helpless. Getting pregnant will render me helpless, both physically as well as in the delivery process. I will have no control over the complications that could occur. That's what terrifies me. The fact that I could end up helpless again, powerless, lying on a goddam operating table, being sliced open and my child ripped from me...that's what fucking scares me.
It's not the "having another baby" part...it's everything leading up to that part that has me so completely terrified that I want nothing to do with being pregnant...ever again. My c-section experience has scarred me for life. My physical scar is just the tip of the iceberg. The emotional scar is what stops me dead in my tracks and makes my blood run cold whenever I even think about getting pregnant again. It shouldn't be that way. I should be giddy and excited about having another baby. The motherhood part is what makes it worth it. It's what makes my world go 'round. My son is the ultimate gift and there isn't a thing in the world I would trade for him. Not even a perfect birth experience. But...on that same note, I have no desire to make him a big brother. None. I don't get butterflies thinking about growing another life inside me. I don't have baby fever or belly envy when I see pregnant strangers.
I know I'll be more accepting, less fearful, and feel ready when I'm thrust into another pregnancy...I just can't shake this goddam fear that I, sometimes, feel is eating me alive.