Go Ahead, Close My Window. I’ll Open Another One.

I never knew how much I wanted children until our son busted unexpectedly into our lives, irrevocably ruining our perfectly unremarkable but happy and childless life…in the best way ever.

Sure, there are moments I’d like to stamp ‘Return to Sender‘ on his adorable forehead, but those moments are fleeting. Those moments always quickly blur in the rear-view mirror and are replaced by the bigger moments filled with wonder and aching love for this boy. It’s that wonder and love that made me so sure we would have more children. Somehow it didn’t happen.

My childbearing window is closing rapidly. I’ve been struggling with keeping it open. While I struggle, I know, but am having trouble accepting, that P will be our only child. But it’s no use. This is not a window that can be propped open. So how do I accept it?

While driving to work this morning, I saw a man in his 30s gently gather a baby from the backseat of his car. As I passed by, he walked around his car with the baby resting gently, but comfortably on his hip to retrieve the baby’s gear. I drove on assuming he was dropping off baby at grandma’s house before heading to work.

As I brought my attention back to the road in front of me, I realized I get to look forward to being a grandmother. As a grandmother, I could snuggle my grandbabies (yes, plural. There better be more than one) all day long. And suddenly, I felt better about not having any more children.

I remembered something that I’d forgotten for a while; as a child I never wanted to be a mom. I never, not once, dreamed about a big white wedding. I never dreamed about having babies. I did play an awful lot of ‘house’ (probably an unhealthy amount, but maybe that was more of a bossy thing than a mom thing?). But I have ALWAYS wanted to be a grandmother. Always. I had wonderful grandmothers. I wanted to be a wonderful grandmother, too.

Then reality hit and I found myself terrified that the grandmotherhood exits are (shockingly?) just down the highway. Sure it’s coming faster than I’m prepared for, but it’s also strangely comforting that P is not really the last of my children. He’s just the last child I’ll give birth to.

Now, as I hurdle down the highway through parenthood, and get closer and closer to grandmotherhood, I just have to channel all my energy, hopes, and dreams (and guilt) into our one child. Feel sorry for him, really, really sorry…as well as my future daughter-in-law. God help them.