I have been a mom for 20 incredible years. I will forever be grateful for the four beautiful humans that grew inside me. When I got married, I also gained four amazing girls. There certainly isn’t a shortage of parenting or family time with eight kids. I was blessed with uncomplicated pregnancies and the ability to birth my babies exactly as I wanted. I take none of this for granted.

As parents we watch our children grow. Our families go through seasons as our children reach new and exciting milestones. There is a familiarity as we come to each one. Potty training, the first day of school, having teenagers, high school graduation, etc. There is no avoiding these moments. We talk about them, read books and prepare ourselves.

We prepare ourselves.

Why, then, wasn’t I prepared for this? Why, doesn’t anyone talk about the grief that comes with this realization?

As I was going through and tossing stored belongings, I came across our co-sleeper and it hit me like a brick wall. I am not having any more babies. I will never feel those first flutters or rest my hands on my growing belly. I’ll never again experience the empowerment and amazement that came with birthing my babies in water. I’ll never breastfeed, hear the first “mama” or wash a load of cloth diapers. I hid my tears as I carried the co-sleeper to the ‘get rid of’ pile. And at that moment, I was thankful for the stretch marks on my empty belly that each of my babies left for me.

The co-sleeper is significant to me because sleeping/napping with my babies is where most of our bonding happened. I kept them close to nurse on demand. I think I kept it all this time just in case…

Everything I experience with my youngest, who is eight years old, is the last time I’ll experience it as a mother. My heart is a little sad and I cried. I know I need to be intentional in my experiences with her. I need to remember. I need to remember when she sits on my lap. I need to remember carrying her. I need to remember combing her hair and helping her choose clothes. One day these will be gone too.

Can we start talking about this? Can we prepare our friends and our children that there may be some grieving when the percipience is made that we are not having more children? Can we normalize this stage in our lives so no one is hiding their tears because they logically know how silly it is to be sad about this at 45 years old?

Today, I hid my tears. Tomorrow, as I go through bins of my favorite baby clothes, I will unashamedly cry my heart out.