Painfully Raw still

I have been thinking of a million things since I have been home, and one of them has had a few people stumped.

I know that I will never have children again, I am okay with that and if I become rich I can always adopt.

People wonder why I am so blunt with the answer and none of them have a clue. I do have a sorted past...

I.am.okay.about.not.ever.bearing.a.child.again

Number 1 - I am 40
Number 2 - I have one child who is almost 18.
Number 3 - I have been through some pain and will never ever want to go through some pains throughout my life and this is one of them.

I have no idea where to start. I could start of when I was a teen and a wild woman, drinking almost all day on the weekends and sleeping around without the thought of protection. Yea me! I know I have made mistakes, if you are going to judge then stop reading.
Thank you

I was pregnant once, twice, three times...
try 6 times
each time there was a baby growing inside of me...
each time the cramps started I knew... and just
GAVE
UP

The first time, the miscarriage was of course a blessing in disguise. I was young, immature and was very selfish and mean. I was living my life through a whiskey bottle, thanks to some great parenting, and was burying myself in it as much as I could.
I lost the ____ I never know what word to put here, do I put what is politically correct, or what I felt in my heart. Problem with that, is that with each miscarriage the feeling was different....
Stronger
Deeper
Harder
Longer

The first miscarriage, like I said I was young so it didn't bother me as much, I just handled it as well as a 17yr old could, put on a pad and continued with my days after a day of rest. After that, I settled down for a bit, had one boyfriend, had a job, and enlisted in the military. I wanted to get as far away from the place I grew up and from the things I grew up with. Even if some of those things were not people, I still needed to get away from all of the emotion and become whoever I wanted to be.

I joined the Navy, and got married.
Just.
Like.
That.

I had 4 miscarraiges then. With each one I became more and more pregnant... farther along the charts, and I would read more of What to Expect When Expecting.
Each time I read a new chapter I would have hope. Something that I would not have until I moved past the crucial date, the date of how old the ______ was before it eliminated itself.
Then it would happen again, the cramps would start, the back pain would begin.
I knew
I would pack away the book, and all things I might have bought into a box, which I would have Steve put in the back of the closet.
Then
I cried
There was such an emptiness there, a once warm feeling, now cold to the touch. There was nothing there. I often wondered what they would do with the fetus once the remains were sucked out of me. I often blamed myself and would go home as soon as possible, crawl under the covers and disappear in my own little world, believing that I did give birth to a healthy boy/girl and I would imagine what it would smell like, hopefully not like the bloody, metallic smell I would smell as the cramping finally gave way to bleeding. I resented everyone who had a baby regardless of their hard story or what they went through. I wanted to wallow as long as I could, cry as long as I wanted. I was never consoled by Steve, he would heal in his own way, by drinking and cleaning the house. I do not want to know what he was thinking during that time, I felt that he had no right to think of what I lost. It was mine, and I wanted it.

Then it was back to work. Since I was in the military, everyone knew everything about me. It was hard to go from wearing maternity pants to my regular uniform. When I would get dressed I would still have a bubble in my belly and I would rub my hand over it, hoping to feel one last hiccup or floaty. I would just cry at a drop of a hat. I had many issues, should have been medicated but wasn't. People were kind, wanting to know what they could do, how they could help. It was impossible to hide from it, so I had to deal with it, which looking back today is probably the thing that saved me. Some days while laying in bed before work I wanted to sleep forever, because then I could dream of them. I wanted to stay in that dream forever. I never told anyone before, of the night my reality came crashing into my dreams. I am not ready to tell that story.

We would wait the recommended time and then try again. Once I found out I was pregnant I would not tell anyone. I would just go on like nothing was growing in me, pretending not to love the little _______ that was inside of me, making me sick... I would go weeks before I would make that initial doctor's appointment, and express no joy when the office would conduct its own test, and watch emptiness as the blood was drawn. I would go home, and do what I had to do. I would not think of where the crib would go, I would not think of what clothes to buy it. It was an It. There was no other word for it. Then as the weeks would add up and I would hear the beating heartbeat, I would become excited, and run home, find the box... get out the book, reread the parts I might have forgotten.
I
NEVER
forgot the milestones or the symptoms, or what to expect. I just wanted to reread the chapters to ensure that I was indeed pregnant and if I read from the beginning then I know in my heart I would have enjoyed it from the beginning just like I should have.
Then the pain would start again...

This created so much hate and discontent in my marriage, half of it was my fault I am sure. We weren't a team anymore, distant, cold and blaming each other for the problems. We moved into a small house to see if that would help.
It didn't
We had sex once, yes I remember. I had trouble keeping the pregnancy not getting pregnant. When Steve came home from Det, we would have sex I would get pregnant wham bam!
6 weeks later, I am at work, distraught over living alone with a dog, and very very depressed. I didn't even realize that I was late and by the time I did realize it, I was 8 weeks pregnant. They gave me some sort of steroids to help the fetus survive. Once I was able to do genetics testing they determined the problem and was able to fix it. Now, I wonder why they could not have done this early on. I was sick as a dog! I had few cravings, chili cheese fries and cereal. The smell of bacon would throw me into the bathroom over the toilet for hours. During my pregnancy I lived with 2 other gals in a really nice apartment. They were sorted, didn't like me because I had a gun in the house... well then they should not have let me move in... they are lucky I even told them I had a gun. Anyways!

I was a paranoid pregnant woman. Every time I did not feel movement, I would rush to the doctors demanding an ultrasound. When I saw the baby I would feel at ease all was right in the world. Even if I was alone, since Steve left, I was happy but very guarded.

Bryant was born... he had ten fingers, ten toes and a stubborn streak that proved throughout the years that he was meant to be. He gave my life much joy. He cried every night, drove me into sanity a few times, and every night after the colic I would just hold him and tell him I was stronger than he was and I could handle anything he could dish out. I knew that I was meant to be Bryant's mom.

Many things happened throughout his childhood, which I won't get into here.

Flashforward

I married Brian, and we tried twice to have a child. Actually I got pregnant and he stressed out. I lost both of them. Brian had a vasectomy and that was that.
I
was
very
VERY
upset
that he did this without really talking to me about it. It might have been his way to deal with it. But it took years and years for me to accept that I was not going to have any children with Brian. It hurt like a passion, and I tried to deal with it. I don't know if today I have come to terms with it, which is really stupid because I myself do not have a uterus anymore. I could say he did it first... his fault... the end...
I don't know...
Anyone who knows me growing up and hell even now, knows that I LOVE babies. The smells, the crying, the diapers, the one on one interaction... the unconditional love.
I love children, I feel that they hold the future in their hands. I feel that all children need more love than what they are getting. Babies are not spoiled, they have no clue what that means. They want to be hugged and loved. When a baby is being held with all of that warmth and love, then it is gone... they cry... I can relate...
I cried too when it was all gone...

And that is why I am ok about not bearing children