My first baby will be 15 next weekend.
And with our other babies now being 12, 9 and 6, you would think that I would be beyond babies.
I mean, look at them!!
There hasn’t been a bottle or a nappy or a restless night with teething for many many a year now.
And, I am 40. So there’s also that.
But my sisters aren’t. They are both in their early 30s and both dream of new babies in their futures.
I don’t know why, but every time I make my peace with no more babies, and think I’m done with it, the reality for them that there will be babies (and not for me) is not easy.
Maybe it is because in my heart I still dreamed of another after Sabrina.
My head and my body weren’t so sure, though.
The decision of no more babies, for me, was definitely one of those head overrule heart moments. A moment to be stop and be sensible. After all, we were already crazy busy, with 4 children, 2 businesses and I really didn’t think I could have coped with another baby.
And yet, I hoped.
Long long ago now, Dean “took care of things” and there could be no more wishing or hoping.
I definitely enjoy that we can, kind of, head out the door at a moment’s notice, without needing to pack the gazillions of supplies that we would need with a baby.
I am able to come to this screen and write words, and get to know myself better, because our children are older and don’t need “hands on” from the moment they wake.
I am free to dream of life and work and business and opportunity, because our children are beyond baby and toddler days, and that is exciting.
But in some ways, it is exciting from the head up. Maybe even from the heart up, if I truly sit with the wildest of the wild.
But a baby. A baby begins with hopes and dreams and the excitement of life from somewhere way down deep. And I have to confess, that I miss that.
I am sad that this chapter is over for me, for us. That so often when we catch up with people, I now hear myself saying “everything’s good, everyone’s well, just all doing the usual”.
I know (in my head) that our baby days have to come to an end.
I just don’t know why I miss it so, when there is also so much freedom and opportunity in a life without the daily
grind care of babies.
I don’t know whether this comes from being raised by a mother who chose to be at home, raising us, and that we all knew that her “job”, her vocation, her place was with her children. I don’t know whether it comes from the wide gap between her mothering choices and my own, as I continue to work and press on with being me.
I just don’t know.
Unusually for me, I left this post unfinished, went and did other things. Including breakfast of bacon, eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes and wilted spinach (um YUM) and of course coffee. And then THREE trips to the local IGA for emergency supplies.
Not. Even. Joking.
But somewhere in the space of a morning, instead of this just being an all sad post about being beyond babies, a gift arrived.
A thread of thought.
“Keep On Making”
Although making a cake or a rug or a book or an article is nothing and I mean NOTHING compared to a baby … perhaps it is “the making” that will save me.
Although a beautiful squishy baby would be the ultimate, it is not to be.
But perhaps I can continue my (re)productive-bringing-into-life -force-energy with the deliberate choice to keep on making.
That definitely feels a little better.
And so, I must away, and make!
Mmmm what shall I make today …