Whenever I encounter pregnant women, I can’t help but admire the way their bellies gracefully fill out their lovely flowing tops and stylish dresses. There’s a distinct radiance about them, a palpable joy that signifies the imminent arrival of new life, whether in weeks, days, or even hours.
The memory of my own pregnancy feels fresh, almost tangible. I can picture myself in a vibrant red dress, 36 weeks along, and I can almost feel those tiny hands and feet pressing against my belly. It’s hard to believe how quickly time has passed; just three weeks after those moments of anticipation, I welcomed the child I had longed for.
My journey to motherhood was anything but smooth. I faced numerous hurdles, starting with an ill-fated marriage that culminated in a divorce at age 33. Suddenly single and unsure, I feared I might never achieve my dream of becoming a mother. However, within a year, I met the right partner, and we took time to savor our relationship before expanding our family.
On New Year’s Eve in 2008, I shared the thrilling news with my husband that we were expecting. The plastic test stick had confirmed what I already felt in my heart—he was going to be an incredible father. I envisioned an easier path ahead, but life had other plans.
We encountered challenges like Hyperemesis Gravidarum, gestational diabetes, a C-section, and struggles with postpartum anxiety. Despite the love we felt for our son, we ultimately decided that one child was enough for us. The idyllic image of a family of four, with a boy and a girl in a charming home, was not our reality—and honestly, does anyone really have that?
Accepting that I won’t experience pregnancy again is a heavy realization. It forces me to confront the finite nature of life and the experiences I will never have again. I won’t celebrate my 16th or 21st birthday again, nor will I ever take a school field trip or enjoy a drink of Purple Passion (thankfully).
As I transition into middle age, I notice the changes. My youthful beauty is softening, yet I still feel vibrant and youthful at heart. However, I’m becoming increasingly aware of how swiftly time is passing.
Yet, there’s so much to look forward to. I no longer grapple with my identity as I did in my 20s. I’ve learned what true love is, and I no longer need to conform to trends to feel good about myself.
But the thought of never holding a newborn in my arms again is overwhelming. As Jennifer Aniston once said, “I have mothered many things.” While I may not have another baby, I can embrace the role of a supportive aunt to my friends who are welcoming their second, third, or even ninth child this year. I can guide women in their writing careers, serve as a role model, and perhaps, one day, become a grandmother.
Now, it’s time for me to turn the page. Motherhood has been the most wondrous experience of my life, and I’m determined to savor every moment of it. So if you catch me gazing wistfully at a pregnant woman, please offer a kind smile. I’m simply lost in my memories.
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Summary
The author reflects on the bittersweet feelings evoked by seeing pregnant women, sharing personal anecdotes about their own journey to motherhood. Emphasizing the beauty and challenges of pregnancy, they express acceptance of their current phase of life while cherishing fond memories and looking forward to future experiences.