The other day I was on Facebook and clicked on a blog post someone else linked to. I don't remember the exact content, but the blog was a parenting one, with lots of posts about breastfeeding. I ended up clicking around and reading a lot. And I had a hard time.
Because according to Our Plan, now is the time we were going to start trying for baby number two. I was (am!) a stay at home mom, who plans to homeschool. I breastfed Lizzie until she was 19 months old and stopped because I needed to start a medication for my fibromyalgia symptoms. I had planned to let her decide when to wean. I kind of have a feeling we'd still be at it if my diseases hadn't interfered.
I took Lizzie to the library every week for storytime, and joined a MeetUp group for SAHMs to get their kids together to play. I wanted to enroll her in community ed classes and take her to swimming lessons. We would go to the park and go for walks and bike rides. I made my own babyfood. I had planned to do everything I could to enrich my daughter's life. And there was going to be probably 3 kids eventually.
I mourn the kind of mom I was and who I wanted to be. I mourn the family we wanted. It plays through my mind like a home video with bright, cheery scenes full of happy children. My reality seems dull and listless in comparison. I feel as if I've deprived Lizzie of a great many things, including siblings.
Instead, she gets a couch momma, who not only doesn't have the energy to play with her, but can't even go into the sun. Her days are full of TV, her toys and her mom instead of children to play with.
I try to remember all that I DO give her. She gets a mom who is always there and has taught her how to be caring and loving. Even though we can't go go go like I had always envisioned, she does know that she's very loved, and that counts for probably more than I give it credit for.
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