Today was the end of possibilities for me.
It had been agreed upon that we would have 3 children. 3 would be the "magic number" in our house. 3 would be all that we would ever want or need. 3 would complete our family.
Today hurt far more than I had realized it would. We had agreed that after we had Bug, Hubby would get a vasectomy. Bug was that "3" that we had decided. We love him and couldn't be happier with him. I know that, for us, a 4th is tempting fate. We have 3 healthy children that I have carried full term despite all my medication. I have been fortunate enough to have easy pregnancies, never having any type of morning sickness that would cause me to worry about throwing up said medicine.
I had to drive with Hubby to his appointment, he would need someone to drive him home after his half hour outpatient procedure. As I we drove into the parking lot, the reality of what was happening suddenly hit and I broke down sobbing. Visions of smooshy, squishy new bundles being passed to me after the sex loudly announced flashed through my mind. Thoughts of babies kicking my bladder and having the hiccups at 27 weeks. Painting new nurseries and preparing newborn size clothes for the new arrival.
Bug is only 8 1/2 months and is still a baby but the finality of it is so... final.
It was like when we sold our first home. We had closed the doors for the last time, handed the keys over and have never gone back since. We never can. It's not ours anymore.
I don't know if it made it harder or easier, but as I was waiting, I had thought to myself that I didn't feel any different. I wasn't any different. Nothing had changed for me, not physically, yet unless something unforeseen happens, I will never have children again.
Fertile yet barren.