Last night, while we were watching our daughters’ videos when they were toddlers, my husband and I missed those years all over again. Hubby says, he always says this, that those kids were lost. They are the same persons but those two kids, so innocent, so playful, seemed to be gone. My teens are still playful, yes, but not like little kids who you can tickle, hug, dance and sing with anytime of the day.
This morning, while my husband and I were eating breakfast, I asked him, for the nth time, if he doesn’t want to have kids anymore. We’ve already talked about this for many times but I had this thought that, maybe we can ask my obstetrician if I am still fit to have a child on my age. Surprisingly he said, of course, he wants to have one again. I know how he wants to have another child, a boy may be. But, he always thinks about me and how delicate I am already given my age, that I can’t deliver a baby without having an operation and how stressful things can be for everyone in the family.
Other than my age, there are still several things to consider. And it’s not always the money, though it’s a big factor, of course. Pregnancy in my age will already be considered risky and we wouldn’t want to be caught in a situation when all we’ve saved will be spent because of the pregnancy. Our two kids will soon be in college and we are still saving for those years. Because we want them to finish school and we want them to have better lives than we’ve had.
When my husband said that, I felt this misery which moved me to tears. In an impulse, I wished we are richer and have more money, that we live in a bigger house and that we have more to be able to have just one more child.
I am just human, and I am weak and I allowed myself to think of these negative thoughts for a while. After a few seconds, I felt guilty for even wanting more. We are already blessed with two daughters, both healthy and bright. Yes, they are hard-headed but I know they are bright. I felt guilty to be ungrateful of what the Lord has already given us.
I found out that there are many moms out there who experience the same thing. The mom wanted another child while the husband doesn’t. And the one common denominator from all the moms I’ve read about it is that we all miss that baby and toddler stage, the hugging, the dependency stage. Children adore their parents, they idolize us, and we can control our children until such age. On times of failures and sadness, the innocence of our children can empower us.
From all these, I realized that it’s just but normal to feel this way with my daughters transitioning to adulthood and being independent more and more as they age. They talk to us as if they feel like they are already adults and control is one thing that I feel like they are beginning to dislike. That’s maybe the reason why my husband keeps telling me that we have lost our children.
But our little girls were not lost. They are just simply evolving to another stage of their humanity and while they become independent, I realized that instead of trying to find someone who will fill up their spaces, my husband and I should stay on course and support our growing teens. Gratitude and acceptance will really help to overcome that feeling of longing. Our two daughters need us more than ever, to survive their teenage years and eventually become the kind of adults we are teaching them to be. They may seem to think and act that they don’t need us most of the time but they do and we will be there whenever they need us.
If you are a mom who wishes for another child, consider most importantly that you and your husband should be 100% on board in decision-making. A new child should be able to bond the two of you together, not break you. A new child shouldn’t be a filler but a carefully planned decision, a new human to support all the way through, just like the rest of his/her siblings.
If ever you decide not to have another one, be happy with your decisions, indulge in the little bit more freedom that you have in your hands, and use your resources wisely for future needs or to help others.
