Nobody talks about how hard it is to be in your childbearing years but not know if you’re done having children yet. It’s hard. It’s hard when you’re in the middle of it all, as your family is still forming, and you’re trying to appreciate the present instead of planning for what might come next.
It’s hard to watch your baby hitting new milestones without wondering if this is your last baby and the last milestone. It’s hard when you feel like your family is so precious and wonderful exactly the way it is, but also like there might be another soul knocking at the door of your womb.
It’s hard to accept that if you do have another baby, your life will change irrevocably and unpredictably—but if you don’t try to have another baby, you might always look back and wish you did. It’s hard when someone asks you this question casually—as if there’s a succinct way to transcribe the tumult in your heart.
It’s hard to know that even if you’re certain you’re ready for another baby, nothing is promised—that it’s all wondering, waiting, wishing. That it’s holding out, then holding on.
Related: I don’t want another baby, I want more time with the babies I already have
To the babies I’ll never conceive
To me, you are real: The idea of you, the potential of you, the wanting of you…is real.
By no standards of science do you actually exist—and yet here you are, taking up space in my heart.
There’s always a place for you here; I’ll always hold space for you here.
[This post was originally published by Kelsey Lucas of @motherspeak on Instagram and has been republished with permission from the author.]
