It Was Just a Dream

Yesterday I threw away a sippy cup I've had for 9 years. Last night I dreamed I was pregnant. It was a vivid dream. . . In it people felt so sorry for me, seeing as we thought we were done. And I was so confused as to how it had happened, seeing as we've taken the precautions to make sure it doesn't. For some reason I was terrified of miscarrying, and trying to think of ways to prevent it from happening. . .
But when I awoke it was just a dream. And although I am glad I am not pregnant, it is bittersweet.


My great grandmother Hazel gave birth to 16 babies. My grandmother Francis gave birth to 7 and miscarried a few, once at the same time as her own daughter was herself pregnant . So you could say it is in my genes to be a baby making machine.

The truth is, I'm still not sure what happens next.
My whole life I've dreamed of being married and pregnant and having babies. Now my baby is almost 3. He doesn't need the sippy cup anymore. He's almost out of diapers. He speaks in coherent, complete sentences (even if I'm still the only one who understands him). Life is moving on, my babies are growing up.

When Danny asked me what my dreams were, I said, "I'm living them." "So you're ready to die?" Well, no, not exactly. Now I dream about being there to guide my kids through the torments of adolescents and cheer them on in everything they do, and hopefully watch them get their diplomas, and get married, and hold their babies. . .
It's just the mourning of what I will never have again. . .To be the expectant or new mother with all the joy and hope that new life brings. I feel like it made me young. So now am I old?
These are my deep thoughts as I process the passing from one stage of motherhood into another. I know I will always be a mother, but I cannot always have a baby.