Breaking down the walls toward wanting again

For the last 7 months, I have been concocting this notion that I was either unworthy or unable to have a baby and in turn decided I didn’t want one. I decided that we wouldn’t be good enough parents, our life style wouldn’t allow us to be good parents, and for every reason under the sun, we would not be good parents. Then came Alex and Tyler.

Alex, Jeremy’s best friend’s 2 year-old son, started the crumbling. The first time he crawled onto my lap, I felt a crack, not of my heart, but of the thick protective layers I built around it. His smile-just before he snuggled his head into my neck- almost brought on tears, but also made me see what I had been doing.

Instead of potentially facing another loss, another moment of feeling incompetent as a woman, I shut off any want I had. I convinced myself that I didn’t want to have a baby-that Jeremy and I shouldn’t have a family.

Tyler finished what Alex started. My dear, beautiful, precious 11-month-old nephew is the most wonderful addition to my life. Instead of remembering that he should have a one-month old cousin, I just enjoyed him. His hugs. His crocodile tears. His six-teethed grins. His flirtation looks, as if I dared not smile at him.

The layers I subconsciously built, seemed to disintegrate brick by brick, row by row. The walls aren’t gone. One would still need to climb a bit, but I’m starting to allow myself to remove them.

I asked Jeremy when. His response was, “When’s your appointment?” He admitted that he’d rather start trying sooner than later.

I’m scared. Is that okay to admit? This sounds funny, but it’s like I’m bursting with this love that is just waiting for an object. It’s like I love this baby more than anything and he/she doesn’t exist yet. Can I handle losing another?