**The title of this post is a bit dramatic, but it was all I could come up with. ;-)**
Today’s post is going to be short and sweet (I think).
Some blog posts flow freely from my brain to my fingers, while others take days to write. For those that fall into the latter category, it’s usually because I never want to sound like an arrogant ass when describing my emotions. Other times it’s because I can’t quite find the words to describe my feelings. This post is a hybrid of both.
I’ve kind of adopted my friends’ kids as “nieces and nephews” and, when invited, I always make sure to attend their birthday parties. I mean, what “auntie” wouldn’t want to celebrate with them?
This past Sunday I joined a five-year-old, his friends and their parents for a bowling party.
You haven’t seen excitement until you’re surrounded by children who all want to roll six-pound bowling balls down the lanes at the same time. Trust me. 🙂
As I was waiting in line with one “niece,” another was vying for my attention. I felt both loved and overwhelmed. I didn’t know how to pay attention to both of them at the same time – and it really bothered me. That’s probably one of the reasons why I’ve said from the beginning I only want one child.
As the party went on, I found myself being an extra set of eyes for the other parents. Wanted or not, I warned one child not to put his hand in the ball return; I grabbed ahold of swinging doors when I saw a little girl stick her hand in between them. I helped wipe up spilled soda and clean off a little girl’s bowling shoes.
I loved doing those things because it’s what I do. It’s part of who I am. I wouldn’t be me if those maternal instincts didn’t appear in these social settings. I just wouldn’t. And that would make me sad.
However, as the only adult there without a child, I also felt so lonely.
And that’s a bitter pill to swallow at ANY point during the process of trying to conceive.