Monday, April 19, 2010


Sooooo...I'm about to become infertile, folks.

That's right. A desert plain.



A seedless watermelon.

Kind of a miserable joy.

I mean, seriously, I was about to rip my innards out myself over the last few months of Mother Nature gift giving. She just felt ENORMOUSLY GENEROUS, and couldn't DO ENOUGH PRESENTING. (She must have heard I'm a hoarder.)

So it was time. And I was more than ready. I'd started throwing tampons out my car window like salt water taffy in a parade!

But then I was driving past Dillards~my 'go-to' department store for the most beautiful, classic baby/toddler clothing ever created~and without warning, my 41 year old heart about shattered to pieces! It was the sudden realization that I am...done. It is the finale. That in the blink of a "procedure," the curtain call has come, and I am bowing out of my child bearing years.

And something that has always been a choice, will now be, well, decided.

And yes, I know. I know what will go away. No more gas can remains being dumped over a tow-head toddler. No more overdose of Dimetap with a less than alert babysitter (Daddy). And no more screaming and doing the limp-body/floppy-arms-over-the-head-collapse while I try to grab them up in a pencil skirt and four inch heels.

No more hearing the scream and moan of a child, knowing that something is really, really wrong. No more bloody broken teeth while playing "airplane" and crash landing on the kitchen floor. No more chicken pox for Halloween, sharing the love, and infecting the rest of the siblings at even two week intervals.

That's right. None of those things.

Which also segues to some other no more childhood "stuff."

No more sun filtering through fly-away hair as you "WATCH ME JUMP (2 inches) HIGH!" on the trampoline. No more newborn nuzzling into my neck and lungs full of baby bouquet. And no more white eyelet blessing dresses with silk rose smocking.

No more lifting a slippery wet babe out of bubble baths and into their hooded towels. No more "Mark, Set, Go!" followed by a race to get into their pajamas. No more belly blows and "Whosagoodboy?" with hysterical baby laughter as a reward.

No more Christmas Eve fevers. No more matching Sunday ties. No more skinned noses for family pictures. No more swaying in a comforting rhythm.

No more...No more...No more.

Thus, the miserable joy.

I know it's time. I know it's a season. And I know it's fleeting.

And so, I bid adieu. I bow deep. I bow grateful. I bow in humility at the blessing of being trusted with these years. These babes. These sons and daughter of my very own.

And the curtain closes. Farewell.


Brenda @Just a Bed of Roses said...

Oh Lisa, I did that 20 years ago and never have had a moments regret.
Never thought of doing a parade throwing tampons...very clever!
You got very sentimental here talking about those precious years.
I am here to tell you...your only having a little break as there are grandchildren, who knows how many, but again you can experience all that again, for some reason it's much funner.

When your done, you know it. It is a time for Farewell and a BIG YEAH!
Hope all goes well, will be thinking of you.

Advice: it's more than a little procedure, you need to remember that part. It's major.

And if you get dressed out of your jammies before 3 weeks...your in big trouble.
Hear that Sterling...Lisa in jammies for 3 weeks or more!

See Mom Smile said...

Yes it is a miserable joy. But I have heard that is what grandbabies are for. Sorry I missed the tampon parade! Those puppies are expensive!

Anonymous said...

I can say I'm done, and I'm only 31! I feel your miserable joy. On days like today, I can safely say, whew! So glad to be done. But when night time comes and I tuck all the kiddies in...then, in those sweet, peaceful moments, I wish the kiddies could stay just as they are and never grow up.

Kay said...

I got a little pitty pat heartbeat when you talked about the sun shining through the hair when jumping on the trampoline and the skinned noses for picture day. Just remember that the scenes are in your memory-pockets to be recalled whenever you want. I do it often.

kara Elmore said...

WELL MY HELL9 (add the 9 and it's NOT a swearword!) I'm BAWLING!!!!!!! And I must say - this "surprise" of ours hasn't gotten the attention it deserved until I read this .... and I MUST say (again) that I am grateful it's not my curtain call ... because I'm not ready to say good-bye to those things. Then again - I don't have a nearly 20 year old like you do ... and the things I DO have that make it ALL bearable again .....

want to guess.....

about 40 boxes of LISA BINGHAM HAND-ME-DOWNS

That - to me - makes giving birth AGAIN alllllllll worth it. Lift that curtain - I am READY!!!!!

I love you.

btw - did you get my message that I talked to 2 people who said that "procedure" you're doing tomorrow is SOOOO excruciating that they felt like they were at a 9 - ready to freaking PUSH for 4 days. YEP ... now - what was it you have scheduled for this week. Cancel it. I'll bring you dinner.

Mimi Sue said...

I remember that feeling well. It is definitely a chapter closing, it made me a little sad for awhile. You know what they say, when a door closes a window opens or some such crap. Anyway, Brenda is right, when the grandkids come along you'll wonder how you ever got along without them. It is simply the best. Unless you have a daughter in law from hell9. You'll see. Mimi

Krista said...

Who says you can't sway in a comfortable rhythm? Is that socially unacceptable? I might have to stop then. It is a final thing but don't forget the daipers, boogers, vomit and tantrums. When we have grandkids we don't have to clean any of that up! I don't know if you've ever read my account of my hysterectomy but it was pure bliss. No more pain, hemorrhaging every month, 2 year supply of tampons gone in a month. You'll love it!

Fat, Female and Forty said...

Before you go in make sure you write in marker across your chest "NO" and "NO" cause you don't want to walk out with crooked nipples. It could happen. (In reference to your comment on my post - for anyone wondering what the heck that was all about.)

Serene is my name, not my life! said...

I'm feeling sad for you in a jealous and yet, so not jealous type of way.

I don't even understand what I just wrote.

Oh well. Good luck!

Miss Breeze said...

I'm at that crossroads in my own life, and haven't quite decided which way to go. It's one of those things that will be bitter sweet. But I'm hopeful that I won't miss it too terribly much if I decide I am done, though.