There are so many women who dream of the wedding day they will have or what their dress will look like. You’d almost somehow imagine it’s like in the movies, where if you went into their bedroom you would find a pink diary with collages of the flowers, hair and poofy sleeved 90’s dress they’d one day wear to their dream wedding.
And again theirs probably so many women who dream of how many children they will have.
Not me.
I’ll let you in on a little secret. For most of my life, I’ve been scared to dream of such events. I never had the luxury of believing those things would happen to me so I built a wall, hid them away and refused to even glance across for fear I might just want them.
Sometimes it’s just easier to pretend. And up until recently I could do it. There were moments I’d go hmmm that’s popped up again. But I’d quickly change the subject or my mind would become distracted. But then one day it came along and it stayed. No distracting and definitely no changing of the subject.
If people announced engagements, I’d shut off. If people were expecting I’d write the quick oh wow congrats and then I’d walk right back into my shell.
If I saw a woman in the street and she was pregnant, I’d feel a heavy sinking feeling in my throat and I’d turn away as quickly as I knew how. Avoidance was the key if only I knew how.
Most recently it’s been in my face, like that nagging feeling I just can’t quiet shake.
I’ve always been late to do things in life too, and as I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more go get em, I want to go live life. Step outside and know I’ve lived life.
But this thing is out of my control. I don’t know why the universe wants me to feel it but it’s there.
That want to get married and nest in my own home, but for some reason more than anything to become a mother. Even that word gets me. Mother.