For years, our reader Anna, 34, thought she might have a fourth child at some point. Her three children are now so big (between 7 and 10) that she knows it’s fine to keep dreaming of having a baby. But the truth is: she will never be pregnant again. The family is complete. Farewell to a way of life.
My bag is vibrating. I’m on my way from one appointment to the next. I dig my cell phone out of my pocket, which is far too full. It shows me a message. I click. A picture appears. It’s a photo of a positive pregnancy test… A moment like that cuts through cold butter like a hot knife. It divides time into a before and an after. Especially when the photo is followed by the sentence „You’re going to be a godmother.“
I could cry with emotion. A new person. So beautiful! And there it is again, that feeling of uncertainty: What will come, who will come? How will the pregnancy go, how will the birth go, what will the baby be like? Curiosity, anticipation. Excitement, tingling. The world just keeps spinning with news like this, but something earth-shattering is raging inside us. A baby!
I’m so glad to be a godmother so that I can experience it all again – at least a little. Because in my life as a mother of three, one thing is clear: I will never be pregnant again.
Did I really just write that sentence? This finality is still difficult for me. There is a battle raging inside me between reality and fantasy. Reality says: You have three great children, your last pregnancy was eight years ago. You’re not getting any younger. The children are out of the woods now and you finally have more freedom again.
Fantasy says: You have three great children, so the fourth would be just as great. You’re still young (don’t you always feel that way?). The children don’t need you physically so much anymore, so why not put the freed-up resources into a new fascinating creature? The grown-ups would certainly help, as they are the ones who keep asking: „Why don’t we have another baby?“
There’s this bubbling in my belly and I automatically put my hand on it to protect it. Oh no, there’s no wriggling human being, there’s just intestinal movements, the days of having a baby in my belly are over. It’s just that I had children quite young, in my mid-20s. Many of my friends are only now having children, maybe that’s why I think so much?
Another child: do I want one or not?
When I go on a business trip and see a new city, I think: I’ll freeze this wonderful free moment now and thaw it out when I get weak again and think: I’d love to have another baby. Times when I calculate on the first day of my period on which day a child would probably come if I were to become pregnant unplanned in the next cycle. The only thing: it won’t happen. For the man, that’s clear. For me too, actually…
I taste the freedom that is returning, I taste the Anna that I was before the children, who loved to dance, who enjoyed spending time with friends, had hobbies and worked a lot. And my mother’s heart tells me: all that plus a baby would be perfect. But then reason intervenes and says: Before the first child, I also thought everything would go on like this, only with the addition of a smiling baby.
In reality, however, things turned out differently: First there was the terrible nausea and tiredness. Then there were two caesarean sections – the thought of opening the scar again scares me. After the birth, there were the crying phases every evening, always around six hours, for six months. The flatulence. The sleepless nights, the feeling of everything sticking to you. The child sticks, the hair sticks, life sticks because day and night are no longer different.
„It’s all good the way it is.“
And then I look at our three children, give them a hug, help them with their homework, drive them to their hobbies and go to bed at night, knowing that I can sleep through the night and drive to work the next morning, which I really love. And then I think: everything is fine the way it is. I have the time to accompany them in their everyday lives. Above all, I have the nerve to do this (most of the time, at least).
It feels complete. We are complete! Even if this longing still lies dormant in me. I take it seriously. It shows me that my feelings are big enough to take other beings into my heart. I have taken on the sponsorship of a refugee boy, which is incredibly fulfilling. We’ve been seeing each other regularly for over a year and it’s more intimate every time. But I’m also thinking about doing more for myself. There is still this dream from my childhood of having my own horse. Who knows, maybe I’ll fulfill it one day when more resources become available alongside my work, relationship, friends, children and household…!
And then there’s my godchild. The pregnancy went well, the birth was painful, the child is fantastic. It gurgles, it babbles, it smiles and learns. It makes me happy to experience this child so closely and yet not be responsible for it myself. It’s what I actually wanted: everything remains the same in my life, but there’s a new little person. Now I just go to see him as often as I can when I want to breathe in the smell of a baby – and still sleep through the night.
