So...

I'm not sure if anyone still reads this, but I wanted a quiet place to sort this out, and this is my anonymous spot.



Tomorrow I find myself in a bizarre situation. I have an appointment for birth control. I'm getting an IUD. Reversible, but long-term. Given my age, realistically, it's permanent. This is it. For most people, that's just a normal part of responsible womanhood. For me it's a milestone I never thought I'd see - a time when I feel like my family is complete. By choice. It's a bittersweet milestone. Voluntarily taking away my fertility feels both sad and weird, mixed with a strange feeling of empowerment: I am fertile enough to need to prevent future pregnancies! Holy shit.


How the hell did I get here? When I posted last, I was rejoicing about PB trying to eat, B & I were still pondering adding another little Grail 'some day in the future', and G was .. well, he was G. He, at least, hasn't changed much since then. Still a challenge, still my wonderful little boy. Everything else has evolved in ways I never expected.


PB did learn how to eat. In fact, she is so good at it that I can count on one hand the number of foods she won't eat. She's not a baby any more, by any stretch of the imagination. She's now 2.5, though most people think she's closer to 4, and she thinks she's closer to 14. She is a beautiful little dictator, having B wrapped firmly around her chubby little finger, and spending most of her days bossing around her brothers. Yes, brothers, plural.

Surprise! That's pretty much how I felt when I found out about Little D. Absolute fucking shock might be a little closer to the truth, really.

D is almost 6 months now, and is the reason why I have an appointment tomorrow. He is incredibly easy: he eats, sleeps and plays well. Doesn't cry without a reason. Tho he is a bit shy and reserved, he's got a smile that can light up my world.. in short, we really hit the genetic lottery this time*.

We just don't want to do it again, especially now that we know that my flavor of PCOS is like reproductive roulette. Well, ok, B does not want to do it again. I'd be up for another round, but I know that I shouldn't. Pregnancy has not been my friend. G introduced me to postpartum pre-eclampsia, something I never even knew existed prior to that. PB introduced me to PIH that sticks around and becomes regular old hypertension .. and D taught me that blood pressure can be just as dangerous for baby as it is for me. He was born at 35.5 weeks, weighing in at a whopping 4 lbs 12 oz, and not quite 18" long. We weren't sure what to expect because we knew he wasn't doing well... and then he came into the world screaming and pink and very nearly perfect.. but he was tiny. In fact, that was the one thing B said to me, when I asked how he looked as they whisked him away - "He's tiny" said B. I know that - but what else? "No, baby, I don't think you understand, he's really fucking tiny". Kinda shellshocked. In the nursery, he was the tiny baby. In the NICU, he was the big boy. It's all relative. When he was born, I thought he was small. By the time he came home a week later, I understood what small really meant. I don't want to push my luck and find out just how much worse things could have been.

So I have that appointment tomorrow. I'm sad, but excited. I think I need to focus less on this being the end of my baby-making days, and focus more on how freaking excited I am that *I* am the one in control of this decision. This time.






*yes, that sounds bad. No favoritism here, because I do love all my babes ~ but it is no secret that G was an incredibly challenge as an infant, and PB was tough just by virtue of circumstance.