Maybe it’s because I don’t have a real job, but every year on Labor Day all I can think about is labor. As in “going in to labor”? Like having a baby? You know? You do know. Ok. Moving on.
I’m weird. I know this has been established. But the thing I keep thinking about when I think about labor? Is that I am not going to do that again. We are done. My old body would not be able to handle another pregnancy and birth, not to mention another newborn, so we are very, very done. Very.
It’s a weird place to be in life for me. It’s a different stage and it takes some getting used to. I still have a plastic bin of maternity clothes. I tried to sell some in a garage sale, but mostly it’s a full bin of clothes only for pregnant ladies. A group of which I will never again be a member…
Bittersweet. Right? But it is time for the next stage in my life. The stage that includes potty trained kids (we are SO close) and no strollers. The stage that includes kids that can speak for themselves and be completely understood, so it’s not a big deal for them to be without me. The stage where I will not ever again experience the miracle of a human growing inside of me…
Do you see what I am doing here? I am so close to taking this to a positive place where I establish this “next stage”, but the hormones draw me back in. They are tricky like that.
But I’m good. It’s fine. No, for real. It is.
Because really, pregnancy and labor were easy (aside from a little complication the first time around). My body was designed to do those things. I didn’t have to figure that part out by myself. It’s been established.
So now the hard part is: what do I do with me? How do I grow and develop this 37 year old human?
It does not bode well for my children that I do not know the answer to those questions.
|No more newborns for this family.|