Speaking the Unspeakable

Yesterday, I offended my sister, thankfully only one of them, not both.  She is about to welcome another grandchild.  Happy occasion, definitely, yet she is already overwhelmed with constant traveling to visit those she already has in an attempt to catch a glimpse of every little milestone.

I live vicariously as a "grandparent" through my sister and brother and enjoy it thoroughly, yet I hope never to be a grandparent.  There, I said it.  And when I shared this secret with my sister during an exchange about the grandson due to arrive this week, silence followed. Even more shocking is that if I had to do it over, I would not have children at all.  This I thankfully refrained from sharing. Unspeakably blunt, but true.

My two sons have brought me joy beyond what I knew possible, but with the joy came much heartache too.  You cannot control life and are therefore limited in protecting our offspring from pain, disappointment, the cruelty of the world and sorrow.  And that hurts, deeply.

Grandchildren would recreate the cycle and I am not sufficiently armed with the emotional stamina to worry about little ones again.  To worry about their happiness, their well-being, their pain, both emotional and physical.

I know I will be losing out on great joy in this act of self-preservation, but that is the trade-off for guarding my heart.  May the universe hear my plea, for I am still living with the guilt from my mistakes during motherhood.