Sometimes you read something, that plain old breaks your heart…
"A friend sent your dad and I a Christmas card last year, wishing us peace and joy. Under the news of her two little ones, she wrote that the past year had brought her "lots of joy, but not much peace".
Your dad and I have chosen peace over joy, which is why you don’t exist. Most of the time, sitting in our calm, ordered home, relishing the peace, freedom and all the other perks of childlessness, I’m happy with our decision.
But sometimes I wonder what I’ve turned my back on and who I’m missing out on.
You see, I won’t ever know what it is to cuddle you tightly in my arms and feel consumed with a love for you that is so strong that nothing can rival it.
I won’t experience you curling into me on the sofa as we look at a picture book together. I won’t smell your hair, still damp because you wouldn’t let me dry it properly after your bath. I won’t marvel at your shining brown eyes, so much like your dad’s. Instead I’ve chosen to fill my lap with the warmth of a cat.
I won’t look on with horror as our small, carefully furnished house fills with coloured plastic tat. Feathers, stones and other treasures gathered on Sunday afternoon walks won’t ever make it on to our windowsills. The beige sofa will remain blackcurrant-stain free…"
Oh for a sofa that remained blackcurrant stain free. Hair never damp because he won’t let me wash it without world war three breaking out. Mess. Constant mess and early mornings I quietly resent…
Life without him was easier, cleaner…and yes, indeed, in retrospect, peaceful. But I need him now. He’s a little piece of me I wouldn’t have the chance to meet.
I am him and he is me.
But respect where it is due; to make a decision that clearly steals a bit of your soul, is a brave one indeed. May she always be content.