Don’t get me wrong. My children are incredible. I love them indescribably. I live for loving them.
I’ll admit it. I miss the degree of freedom that comes with being childless.
I know that I have a few close friends/readers that are struggling with infertility, so I don’t confess that lightly. I know that this particular flavor of “the grass is always greener” is hurtful to those waiting to be blessed with a baby.
But, it’s still the truth. Because Jim and I were a little more settled when we married, we didn’t wait all that long to start our family. In fact, we’d just celebrated our first anniversary when we decided we were ready for a baby. So I
don’t think know that we didn’t fully appreciate the time we had when it was “just us.”
Just us on our spur of the moment dinner dates, even if it was just to Applebee’s.
Just us on our mindless Home Depot wandering, dreaming of our homes to come.
Just us to waste $25 on a bad movie.
Just us to stay up super late on a Friday night, not having to wonder who was gonna get up with the baby in the night, or the toddler at the crack of dawn.
I missed out on appreciating the cool guys my husband was, before he was a daddy, too.
Anyway, I’ll admit my nostalgia, and move on. I may miss the freedom, but I wouldn’t give up my reality to regain it.