Thursday, 27 November 2014

Why is motherhood making me sad?

Almost a year ago to the day I wrote a post about being in Zwischen, waiting for the birth of my baby boy.  At that point my mood was such a melting pot of feelings - anticipation, excitement, nerves and certainly happiness.

Now a year later I must quietly admit, here, between you and I, that I am feeling really rather sad.  In fact I would go almost as far as saying I am grieving.

This beautiful baby boy, who brings me so much joy, is my last baby.  We have four children and a few weeks ago my husband had a vasectomy.  This was a mutual decision and I am quite clear that our family is the right size for us.

But, there is a sadness.  I am mourning the end of our fertility together.  There will be no more pregnant bumps, no wriggling tummy, no inner hiccups.  Never again will I feel that sense of being two people as one.

Never again will I have the sensation of transcending worlds as I birth a new life from my body and hold slippery, warm, new skin against mine.

And when this little boy decides its time, never again will I feed a child from my breast.  Nurture and love them with magical milk, comfort and soothe them close to my body.

I love watching everything he does, seeing him learning to walk, hearing him form his first words, watching him dance and work out his world.  This brings me huge amounts of joy and yet I am sad.

I am still a mother, I still have a great many years of mothering to do, and yet my motherhood is changing. So just for a little while, I am sad.

Today's post is part of the Moods of Motherhood blogging carnival celebrating the launch of the second edition of Moods of Motherhood: the inner journey of mothering by Amazon bestselling author, Lucy H. Pearce (published by Womancraft Publishing). Today over 40 mothers around the world reflect on the internal journey of motherhood: raw, honest and uncut. To see a list of the other contributors and to win your own copy visit Dreaming Moods of Motherhood_cover_front_300


  1. I went through a mourning phase too after my husband's vasectomy. It is natural. The light at the end of the tunnel is fabulous, worry free sex at the peak of ovulation! Thanks for taking part in the carnival and writing from the heart. xx

  2. My husband believes that I still am deeply grieving the end of birth giving. And it is not that I do not enjoy and value the opportunities afforded by my new status, and I look forward to being a grandparent and hag, butmy body and sou deeply miss the sensations, intimacy and the somethng whatever it is of being abirthing breastfeeding mother. My arms feel empty. And I wonder since I did not choose these feelings to be with me 10 years after the birth of my final child, I wonder what happened that got me stuck here and what I need to say or do to release the souls of the children I will never have what do I do now?

  3. Oh Awen, I feel the same, nursing my wee fifth and he's definitely the last. Its a a definite sad yearning I feel for the sweet scented little heads nestling and nursing close to my breast....

  4. We understand. There is a certain attachment to what seems to be our pegged life roles, to which a lot of our being and our growth has been wired. Still, it's within our power to unplug and jump start and find ourselves into new life situations. That's what vasectomies do really, and birth control for that matter. They put us in new set-ups, with their possibilities that we might not have contemplated, which I believe can push us further and achieve things. Thanks for sharing that! All the best to you and your family!

    Timothy Burke @ Vasectomy Sydney