I made it. My body did what I believed to be impossible. I carried another baby to term. With my pelvis ground to nearly nothing thanks to SPD (symphysis pubis dysfunction), and my exhaustion hitting all time highs, I'm relieved; and done. I won't do this again. This is my last baby and I'm content with the notion. Truth be told, three kids in three years seems like a good time to end this.
Don't get me wrong, I love my kids, I live for them, but one day I would like to get back to my life, and aspirations. These babies will always be the best thing I will ever do, but i'm ready to start the mediocre, the middle of the road goals, the things easily set aside when you have a child yelling mom at you 100 times a day.
One day I would like to go back to school, take some writing courses and see where this faded dream might take me. It's already brought me here. A journal for my kids. Memories and stories that won't completely fade overtime. I like to think that some day my great-great grandchild will bring in an entry or two for show and tell. But we all hope to have a story survive throughout the generations, don't we? I know my story is already being figuratively written through the people my children will become, but I hope they can have something more literal to hang onto.
I also hope they never let their dreams fade, not until they have given it their best shot, no matter how unlikely the dream may seem at the time. 37 weeks. A huge goal I have reached and accomplished. Now in a few years when this baby is in school, maybe I will accomplish more of the mediocre...just for me.