Two years ago I made the worst decision of my life.
I decided not to have any more children.
Pixie was barely 2 months old and my womb still ached from carrying her.
The emergence of four children in just over six years
and the tightness of money, of home, of time—was stifling.
The murmurings of family and friends
were beginning to weigh heavy on our hearts.
S.l.o.w.l.y
—like a whisper of wind turning to blow from east to west—-
we began to think on the wrong things.
We lost our Heavenly and dug deep in the earthly,
planting seeds of fear and doubt
that kept me up from dark till morning.
What were we doing?
We had said when we married at 18/19 that we would wait five years to have children. We would climb up Responsible and sit there until everyone believed we were as capable as we thought we were.
When a little Bean came roaring pell-mell into the world 17 months later;
Responsible was a tower best left for others to climb.
I was the Southern Baptist girl
who would turn around half way to the grocery store
if she left her wedding band by the sink.
People talk, you know.
And the fear settled in.
Subtle–so I wasn’t even sure it was there.
These measures were for my grandmother.
These measures were for my father.
These measures were for my uncle.
These measures were for every Sunday School teacher
who ever caught me passing a note.
As each new little face greeted the world,
my happiness grew parallel to my worry.
So did the fear of the looks, the lack of finances,
and the rampant shrinking of the little house with the blue door.
We allowed unwise counsel to scale our walls
and come in through the bathroom window.
I took a needle and thread
and stitched the word “Judged”
around the hem of my dress,
bright red letters so that no one could miss them.
Inside I changed from hopeful and LED. To something else.
On this day, two years ago, I left my Mother holding the littlest girl in the world,
while I was wheeled into surgery, crying.
I allowed them to break my body and my heart, for practicalities sake.
All I ever wanted was this family.
*Tubal ligation/Sterilization
may be the right choice for some families,
but it wasn’t the right choice for us; for me.
We did not make it for the right reasons,
or with the right motivations.
We all have to follow our hearts and beliefs–
this is my sorrow over losing sight of mine.
"May the love of
our Lord be with
you. Now and always
may you stay blameless
'till He comes."
Wow, thank you for sharing Sara. My heart was in tears for you. Such raw honesty. Healing. Hope.
This is the most beautiful thing I have ever read. As an engaged young woman preparing for marriage…and various forms of birth control…Thank you.
[...] Miller on Love Has Come. Kara at Simple Mom on Creating Routines and Rhythms. Sara Sophia writes a post that almost made me [...]
[...] The Path is Not Broken “I was the Southern Baptist girl who would turn around half way to the grocery store if she left [...]
Heart is going out to you. In the moments when you are remembering that regret, also remember that God knows your heart. I made a similar decision once. It wasn’t a decision that affected the end of the future children I might have. It was the end of a child that I was given – only never got to meet. Bad counsel and fear are the devil, my friend.
Hearts never mend from poor decisions. Yet we are complete without mending. The unmended part is the part that God caresses… the part he uses.
I am so, so, sorry, honey. I love you. {{hugs}}
oh I love you. I just felt all of this. so real my love. hugs.
[...] Miller on Love Has Come. Kara at Simple Mom on Creating Routines and Rhythms. Sara Sophia writes a post that almost made me [...]