Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Baby Fever, Baby Love

I doubt any of you will be shocked when I tell you my life long dream and desire is to have children.  I've always liked kids, and kids have always liked me, and so I figured I'd do the small town thing and graduate from high school, marry the love of my life, and be done having children by the time I hit 30.

Ah, life.

I am now 34 and still childless.  And with encouragement giving to me by the doctor who told me about my auto-immune disease, he also shattered all my hopes and dreams by telling me my chances of ever getting pregnant or carrying a child full term would require a miracle.  Three years later, I am still scarred by his comment, even though I am a firm believer in miracles and that if I'm meant to be a mother, someday, I will be one.

Granted, the internal time clock is not being kind in reminding me that I turned away the one guy who was willing to marry me and start a family with me, even if it meant years of medical trial and error, due to a difference of religion.  Okay, technically, we both just kinda dropped each other without talking it over, and we are both too stubborn to see how each other is doing about it.

So, 34, childless, and very much single.

All this to say, as much as I try to be happy for the 9 million people in my facebook feed who are sharing pregnancy announcements and baby bumps, there is a part of me that dies a little inside with each announcement, wondering if they will give me their baby....  it will ever be my turn.

I didn't know my baby fever was this strong until I was watching a television show where a newborn baby was being rushed to the hospital and I couldn't contain my tears!  "Why!?!?!  It's just a baby!  It's too little to die!!!!"  I shouted at the television.  "My heart can't handle this show!"  I then wondered if I would ever be able to recover from a miscarriage since my doctor made me consider the thought of losing a child, if I ever become pregnant.  Why must doctors destroy hope?

I was relieved to get my mind off of the things in life that I can't control such as pregnancy and giving birth by going to work on the farm.  Physical motion is a great way for me to clear my mind and work through my thought process.  I suppose this is why I have so many "great" thoughts while hiking.  And, so I was off to clean the pen of the lone sick lamb.  As I was scooping up all the muck and mess this sick lamb had created, I began to wonder what made it sick.  I, then remembered the 93 pregnant lambs, and wondered if this one was sick due to pregnancy complications.  I rolled my eyes at myself for having an over-active imagination and got back to work, thinking of all the different reasons why animals could be sick beyond pregnancy complications.

I shoveled up another shovel full of muck and that's when I saw a redish, rubbery, glob.  "Weird, that looks like a placenta, not that I really know what one looks like..."  I mumbled to myself and the surrounding lambs.  I tapped it with the edge of the shovel.  It didn't feel like the typical hay and poo mixture I'd been scooping up.  I wiped away the hay that was around it and that's when I saw the rest of whatever it was that I was scooping up.

It was a half developed baby lamb.  It's little head and knobby knees were all curled up together.  "Poor baby lamb!" I fought back the tears.  "You didn't even have a chance to live!  Why? What caused the miscarriage?!?"  Anger of the situation rose up inside my chest, my boss farmer lied to me, the lamb wasn't sick, the lamb was having a miscarriage!

I gently scooped up the baby and placenta and placed it in the big pile of muck, and then the unthinkable happened.... the head of the lamb fell off and rolled down the pile!  I gasped!  I beheaded the dead baby lamb!

I felt like I had committed murder.

I did my best to bury the remains all together in the pile of muck, but I couldn't shake the feeling of finding the dead-half-developed lamb, then beheading it, only to bury it again.  I did my best to honor it in its burial but I didn't know the farm work was going to drain me so emotionally.  I simply can not deal with hurt or dead babies.

When the boss farmer told me about the 93 pregnant lambs, I was giddy and excited to be a part of it as they would give birth, because I didn't think about the ones that wouldn't make it. Now, having seen the dead lamb, the excitement is gone, and now I feel like a worried-about-to-be-a-first-time-mother wondering what other pregnancy complications might take place over the next several weeks.

1 comment:

  1. Oh, Jennee! I'm so sorry that happened! How awful!

    I know it's hard to not think about it, but there are still 93 babies to celebrate. It's okay to be sad about the 1. But try not to let it bring you down so much that you can't be happy about the rest.

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