A Strange Breakup

When I got married I thought the agreement was no more breakups. Forever. No more tears and broken hearts. No more trying to go back, hoping to recall what his kiss or hug felt like. But two nights home and I was losing it. Call it the hormones, the utter exhaustion, or the sudden enormous changes that my body and life were undergoing, but the tears were flowing freely. As Peyton sat stroking my hair and listening to my feelings of loss and loneliness, I was taken back to years before with my mom as comforter after painful splits. And then it became clear- another breakup had just occurred.

I've tried to explain it to some and most don't understand, but finishing off the pregnancy was really sad for me. I lucked out overall- besides a few weeks in the beginning and one in the end I was extremely comfortable and truly enjoyed being pregnant. He was my little buddy. I could always drop my hand down to poke at a foot or simply rub around and know that my boy was there. Little messages sent through kicks; an elbow wedged in my rib- I loved it all. It was a relationship built gradually, full of little wonders slow to unfurl. And in a whirlwind of a night, it was done. Our tie was severed and he was now the world's, a beautiful gift for everyone to enjoy.

It's selfish, I know, but I missed him being mine. And not that I didn't want a baby, because of course I was over the moon, I just wanted some transition time. Opening our private bond to the public was a big change that involved loss, heartache, and tears. It was a breakup of sorts and it hurt. A lot.

Like lots if breakups, I knew it was coming. It was the inevitable end to that form of us. What took months to develop was changed in one intense morning. He was there, I was there, but we were different. There was a new dance to learn, one of breastfeeding and soothing and comforting cries. All the security we had built vanished; the knowledge that had been gathered no good. We were starting afresh with my head still spinning.

So as I sat there crying, I realized that my next baby will take time too. Just like with a new guy, you can't just jump in. There's a learning curve. I will have to go through nine patient months, getting used to the new me, the new us, only to have that reality ripped apart again. I will have to suffer that loss and go through the process of reintroduction after having the most intimate of relationships. I will yet again feel empty, because a piece of me will literally be missing. And that is tough, so tough.

But with the end comes a new beginning, and that is simply magical. I wasn't the mother who fell head over heels in love with my baby upon first sight. Please don't get me wrong (especially if you ever read this Declan!); I loved him something fierce. He was a mixture of me and my love, and I was and always will be in complete awe over that. I was simply overwhelmed with feelings- sadness over the end, excitement for the future, love for this innocent little man, and complete shock that this all just happened. But as the days went by and I got to know him for him, how he uses his hands when he feeds or his sweet mew of a cry, I fell hard. It might not be the same as it was before, but he still is my little kicker. And I know as each day passes and my love expands, our new relationship will far outgrow our original one.

LIVE THE MURRAYED LIFE

Facebook | Pinterest | Instagram