After Dolores was born, I thought we were done having children.
And at 6 months old when I didn’t have that overwhelming urge to have another child, I knew it.
She is now just over 18 months. Dex is 3 and a bit.
I have my pigeon pair. They are wonderful.
They love each other, play with each other, the share.
Just this morning I had a little old lady tell me “what delightful children!” I have.
I’m seeing ultrasounds.
And photos of growing pregnant bellies.
I’m hearing talk of baby names. Of the excitement of finding out what they are having, or that they are not finding out.
I’m hearing people hit all the milestones of pregnancy.
The 13 weeks. The 24 and the 27 weeks. The counting down of the end when it is so close and you are so excited and terrified and can’t wait for this next part of your life to begin.
And I’m missing it.
There is an empty feeling between my hipbones.
Financially, lifestyle, all of those things, I know we are done.
Emotionally and mentally, I know we are done. I know neither of us are right to bring another baby into this world.
All our attention is focused on the two we have and also, for the first time in a long time, our attention is able to be focused on US for more than 2 minutes.
We are doing better as a couple and I don’t doubt for a second part of this is due to our children getting older.
I have grand plans. I’m in the process of opening my own business and TD is in talks to go into partnership with his boss.
I want to travel. In a year or so, our children will be the perfect age to travel and experience things.
To feel the wonder at seeing the world.
Even in 5 years.
I feel that adding a new born to that equation would remove the quality of that experience for everyone.
Or, it wouldn’t happen at all.
The new house, new car, not working… all those things.
Outside the gym the other day there was a little girl in her pram.
she was maybe 3 – 4 months. She was staring at her hands in amazement.
She noticed me smiling at her and she smiled back. And the more I smiled, the bigger hers got.
And I felt a physical ache of longing.
I don’t want another baby, but I definitely miss the baby moments I’ve had.
Maybe it’s me mourning all the things I’m finished doing that I never thought would end so early.