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Honey Sunshine Chai Tea Warm Milk

Why I Only Want One Child

This was my baby. The one I always hoped for. And here he finally was.

The day I gave birth to my boy was the most amazing and perfect day of my entire life, hands down.

I had never felt so blissful and carefree. Absolute Euphoria. I didn't even know that a human being could feel that way, because the feelings I felt were impossible to achieve any other time in my life, no matter how special the moment or day was. But hearing my baby for the first time, seeing his face for the first time, holding him for the first time in my arms, feeding him, and falling asleep with him right there next to me.........those were pure, blissful moments of Magic. That's what Magic feels like.

That moment of Magic, I knew I was going to be such a great mom. I promised that THAT was going to be the best and most important thing I'd ever do, even if I had to put my dreams on hold. HE was my everything. HE was the whole Universe to me, and I had him in my arms. 

I didn't want to leave the hospital. The room we were in was cozy and even though it was only January, the skies were blue and the sun shone through our window every morning.
The staff was so nice, I felt like family.
Recovering from my tummy being sliced open wasn't as bad as I expected. I stayed on top of my meds just to be sure the pain didn't debilitate me. I had things to do!
That first shower I took at the hospital was ASTOUNDING! A shower never felt so fucking good in my entire life.
I looked absolutely terrible, I must say. I gained a good 67 pounds growing a baby (who, by the way was only 7 pounds 7 ounces). My now empty belly flopped over my incision, and bodily fluids were pouring out of my body. It was definitely not a pretty sight.
But every time that sun shone through our windows onto our baby boy, he would move just a little bit to bask in the warmth.
Laying in the hospital bed, exhausted as can be, I could only smile.
Everything was: Perfect.
In fact, my whole pregnancy was perfect! I loved being pregnant, up until about two weeks before I gave birth.
So what happened after all the perfect dissipated?

Reality kicked in.

Coming home was.....bittersweet. I was excited to bring baby boy home, and to try and get more rest.
But in all honesty, I was scared.
This was my first baby! And to me, he was the smallest, most vulnerable thing in the world.
I'd carry him like a delicate egg shell.
I was so weirded out at the fact that babies have a soft spot on their head where their skulls don't completely close up.
My anxieties would kick in, full force, 24/7.
The highlights of my day consisted of watching M sleep, getting a chance to eat, and breastfeeding.
I LOVED breastfeeding.
Breastfeeding gave me that same feeling I had at the hospital. And I didn't want to let that feeling go.
No matter how much I loved to breastfeed, it was hard!
I had an overflowing amount of milk.
When I letdown, I LET DOWN! Out of both breasts. And milk got anywhere and everywhere. It was something completely out of my control. It would spray on me, on my baby, on the bed or the couch, just literally all over.
The suckiest part was that it was coming out too much and too fast for my boy...
He would get SO frustrated, and that would make ME frustrated, and we'd both end up crying.
I felt like a disappointment to him already.
Eventually, after exclusively breastfeeding him for two months, I began exclusively pumping for him.
And I think THAT moment was when things started to go downhill for me. 
I cried every day about not being able to breastfeed. My baby boy, just didn't want to try anymore.
I got lots of help from La Leche League, and doctors and nurses at the clinic, but my milk production was just moving faster than it could produce.
In turn, leaving the both of us frustrated.
Since I was no longer "breastfeeding," I felt lame. I loved my baby boy more than anything in the world, but I was constantly feeling like I was a letdown.
That was also the starting point of me feeling self conscious about my body.
I was not having that Euphoric feeling anymore.

I hated pumping because it was so inconvenient, and it hurt worse than breastfeeding. I had to spend more money on equipment that pumping requires, like specific sponges for cleaning bottles, membranes for the pump, etc., etc..
I even had to buy two new pumps because I used them so frequently that they would give out. Basically what I'm trying to say is that it was inconvenient and expensive.
Don't get me wrong, I am so grateful to have even been given the gift of giving my Liquid Gold to my baby!!! And I would do it all again if he was still into that!
I just wish I would have been able to keep breastfeeding him.

I'm drifting on subjects, but I promise they all fit into my reasoning.

During my pregnancy, I was compulsively thinking about the miracles of life and everything surrounding it. In New York, I had this epiphany that life is beautiful. Life is simple. Life is fragile. Life is so delicate, and I had to embrace it. To me, Life was the most beautiful thing in the Universe, so I decided: I never wanted to die.

Now that my baby was here and out in the world, I began psychoanalyzing everything. 
Myself, the people around me, and the Big, Bad World out there.
I became terrified.
Not only for my boy, but for myself.
What was I going to do to protect him from all harm?! How was I going to raise him with how crazy the world is right now??
And I realized, I couldn't!
This thought destroyed me further...

My anxieties took hold and I was absolutely convinced that my time was up. 
I was going to die, and the Big, Bad World was going to eat my boy up.
How would he get through life without his Momma??
I told M that when I die, if I had the option of WHAT to do after I was dead, I would chose to watch over him and M. Simply said. I would never leave you guys. Because YOU GUYS are my heaven. 

Originally, before I became pregnant, my death decision was to be mummified with M. Leave my body and organs intact, and leave me alone. 
I didn't like the idea of being buried in a graveyard because it makes me feel claustrophobic. I know. It won't matter when you're dead. But what if it does??
I also didn't like the idea of being cremated, because I felt that parts of me would be lost. How can someone really make sure every particle of dust was there AND yours?
I need my body untouched and all together.
As you can guess, I am not an organ donor.
Even the whole, "bury your body and grow a tree" idea doesn't fit with me well because I don't trust humanity enough to not cut down trees for whatever resources they feel they need.

The thought of death and after death never really bothered me so much until after I had my baby.
I always kinda had an idea of where I was going after I died, due to a DMT experience I had a few years back. But of course I was always doubtful. I still questioned it.
What if there really IS nothing after you die?
That thought scared the shit out of me. Because that's not what I wanted! If it was up to me, I'd live forever with my M and my baby. But NOTHING after you die??? No fucking way. This can't be it.

I became obsessed with AFTER death. Dying doesn't scare me much, it's a natural process. It's AFTER that freaks me out.
I didn't want to die. Simply. But there was this feeling inside of me that just KNEW I was going to be taken from this world, and very soon.
It didn't help my anxieties about After Death when we all witnessed a man jump to his death accidentally. Yes, he didn't mean to die.
He was cliff diving at too high of a point. We all shouted at him NOT to jump, but he got a running start, and off he went.
The last words that came out of his mouth was, "OH, SHIT!!"
They say he died instantly.
We all tried to revive him for over 30 minutes before anyone could get to him.
His name was Cameron and he was only 21 years old.
His mom wasn't even there to say goodbye.

That moment destroyed me even further. I became even more paranoid about death. And I didn't know it at the time, but I was also becoming depressed.

I was obsessing over Cameron's death and also one of my old friend's death as well. (She was the girl I loved). She died when I was just entering my 2nd trimester of pregnancy. A horrible, accidental death as well. 
I cried a lot for them both.

When the summer was coming to an end, I was, for once, excited about winter. I wanted to see the snow!

M, his first son, my baby boy, and I, all went to see my mom get married in NYC. I was so stoked to show them New York! They had never seen a city that big before!
During that time we were there, I felt happier than I had since my baby was born.
I thought it had a lot to do with being out of South Lake and letting lose in New York, but I was wrong.

I went back, me and my baby, about a month and a half after the wedding to spend some quality time with my mom. I thought it would be nice since we didn't really have much one-on-one time during her wedding.

The first three days in New York I was alone with my baby. It was the first time I'd actually been alone with him day AND night.
It was tough and frustrating. For Thanksgiving he and I shared a frozen Pot Pie.
My mom and her, now husband, were in Jersey City.

When they got back, I was SO relieved! And I couldn't wait to spend time with my mom.
We celebrated Thanksgiving when they returned.
The whole time I was there (2 weeks and 3 days), I felt like we barely talked.
I drank almost every night I was there. Just to not want to walk out that door, baby in my arms, and leave.
She told me we would watch movies on Netflix together. All the movies her husband and my boyfriend won't watch with us because they're "too girly."
She never watched one movie with me.
She was always editing photos or sending out emails in her room, like she used to when I was younger, and every time I went in her room, I felt like I was being a bother. She was always busy with something.
The only time she ever seemed truly happy that I was there, was after we all had a couple of drinks.
But when it was just us, I felt like she was always talking down to me and it made she only made me feel worse about myself. 
My only "free-time" was when I was able to take a shower.
After awhile I just wanted to come home.

I realized, it wasn't being away from South Lake that made me feel good. I think that it was being able to get away from the baby for a few hours. 
That made me feel like a horrible mom. Like I wasn't being fair to my baby.
I begged, pleaded, meditated, and prayed to be gifted a baby, and now I was relieved to spend time away from him! That felt terrible to me.
Of course, later on I realized I really did NEED those few hours away from him!
As you may know, I quit my job in the early weeks of my pregnancy. Since then, I have been taking care of my kids, day and night, all week. My "outings" were: going to the grocery store, getting gas, and occasionally picking M up from his work across town.
I have been surrounded by my baby, 24/7 since he was conceived. 
I needed those few hours alone with my M and my OTHER son!

I wish I had seen that earlier, because feeling like I was being unfair to my baby, got me the most down I had ever felt.

Stacked with anxieties, on top of depression, and my "knowledge" of my impending death, I fell into my "cycle." 

I started to take it out on M.

I was being horrible to him. And in turn, it made him feel crazy. We got into an awful argument and I was THIS close to moving back to Denver.
That was when I realized how depressed and anxious I actually was. And I knew it wasn't going to get any better on my own.

I now had another diagnosis: Postpartum Anxiety.

M was having his panic attacks again. So he ended up on medication.
About a week later, I ended up in the hospital too, and am now back on the medication I was on back in 2013.

We both started smoking again, and the beginning of 2016 was not going the way we imagined.

Our Subaru tanked, we were still catching up from that New York Wedding, and we were BOTH depressed. This had never happened before. When one of us was depressed, the other helped the other out. Vice Versa.
But BOTH of us were depressed! What were we going to do???

I was watching an interview on Youtube with Mila Kunis and motherhood. She was asked, "how she did it all. What about you and Ashton's relationship?" She said that they were doing great because they always had at least one night alone together. She said THAT was a must, otherwise their relationship would not be as strong. 

I was dumbfounded. Why didn't I even THINK about that???!!!

If I would have known to take at least one night a week off to spend time with M, I don't think I would be here now. I never would have felt like I was losing my mind. And worse, losing him!

I hate to admit this, but being back on my anti-depressants has really brought me back to who I was during the time that I was newly pregnant. And I don't plan on going off of them until I know that I can take care of my mind in healthier and more easy ways. When I'm not taking my pills, I feel like my mind is the one who's in control. Now, I'm the one who's in control!
M and I worked on our relationship together, and instead of being sucked into the darkness, we let our roots take hold into the ground even stronger. We kicked ass!
And I know that someday, I won't have to rely on these pills anymore.

So now, in early February, things started to look up. We got a new car! M has been getting praised by his bosses and his bosses boss, I'm starting school in the Fall, I'm finding convenient and fun ways to bring in finances, we are healthier, stronger, and looking at life in a more positive light. 

I've had contradictory thoughts and feelings since giving birth.
What kind of parent will I be for my baby?
Home school? Public school? Private? No school?
I day dreamed of just taking him around the world, learning what life and the world was REALLY about by living in all different cultures. Learning several languages together.
But then I thought, "where would his Home be? What about attachments to people?"
I couldn't take that away from him. I wanted for him to have a home to always come to.
What if he becomes an adrenaline junkie? I would want to strangle him! How could he do that to his poor, worried mother?
Honestly, I don't know WHAT kind of mother I will be. But I DO know that I'm going to be a damned good one. I made a promise!

I rolled around the idea of having another baby. Raising another kid. And I imagine it in my head and smile. But then I think about how deeply the whole experience affected me.
During the pregnancy I saw and felt so intensely, the beauty of life. The magic of it.
And after the pregnancy, during the first year of my son's life. I saw and felt so intensely, the darkness of life. The magic of it. The Yin and the Yang. The Light and the Shadow. And for my mind and body right now, at the stage that it's in, I could not handle the intensity.
Yes, I pushed through, as hard and as strong as I could. But if, in the future, I had the option to do it that way, or wait until I was healthier and stronger, in mind, body, and soul? I would chose the latter.

Another of my reasons is a silly one: I don't want to love another baby. Is that selfish?
I feel like my baby deserves EVERY single little bit of my attention and devotion. He needs every ounce of love and magic that I can give him. I want to focus all of my soul and energy into HIM!
To me, having another baby would only distract me further. And no, I'm not saying I wouldn't love my second child! I would! But I feel like it's just not in the cards right now. Women tell you that it feels the same with every kid they have. That you'll regret not having more when it's too late.
And maybe that's true! But I wanted a baby, and now I have him. And I have never been so in love in my life.

So no. I only want one baby. One kid. 
For now.

If in the future I change my mind, than great! Then I know it was my time to bring another life into this world.
If I were to conceive again right now, there is no doubt in my mind that I wouldn't want him or her. If now was the time, now would be the time.

Becoming a mother is the greatest thing to ever happen to me
The whole drastic process of growing a baby, giving birth, and raising him in JUST the first year of his life, was absolutely the most intense thing I could ever experience.
And I would do it all over again.
Just.......not for a long, long time.


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