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Backstory: I am 27 years old, married for six years, no children. This last item has been a point of sadness and depression to me, since when I was kid, all I wanted was to be married and be a Mommy. Various life circumstances too lengthy to discuss at the moment have delayed my husband and I starting a family indefinitely. The amount of pain this has caused me is difficult to describe - earlier in my life I figured I would have at least four children by this age. Some days I do very well with the state of my childless life, and other days, not so well. When my family is all together, it is sometimes more difficult, since I have four younger sisters, two of whom are married with children.
My adorable two year old neice unwittingly sent me into a spasm of sobs this evening.
I was blissfully enjoying a wonderful afternoon at my sister’s house with her, her husband, their two kids, my other sister, her husband, and their baby. We were just being together, enjoying watching the children play and discover, especially the two boys, who are around 6 months old and only 3 weeks apart. Precious. Despite my own obvious (and painful) lack of children to add to the mix, I was absolutely soaking up the beauty of the moment. Relaxed, happy to be alive, happy to be together, enjoying my wonderful family and precious, precious children all around.
One of my sisters decides to feed her son, and my darling neice runs to get her baby doll for a feeding as well. Pulling up her little dress, she snuggles the dolly’s face on her tummy/chest area, and pulls her dress down modestly to cover everyone up. Adorable. No baby doll bottles in that household! In the midst of “feeding” her doll, she reaches her little hand over to me, squeezes my breast, and says innocently in her learning-to-talk-accent,
“Joy, you got moot?” (translate moot = milk) I giggled, and said, “No, only people who have babies have milk.”
She paused to digest this information, then pointed to her mom (my sister). “Mommy got moot.” “Yes,” I answered, “Mommy has milk to feed baby Aidan.”
She glanced around the room, searching to put words to her next thought. Her bright blue eyes caught my other sister, still feeding her son. “Tia Tab got moot - baby Bastien.” (his real name is Sebastian)
“Yes,” I said, “Tia Tabitha has milk to feed Sebastian.”
Isabel hesitated, then put up her chubby hand to squeeze my breast once more. “Joy, don’t have moot?”
“No Isabel, I don’t have milk.”
Her gentle innocence was adorable, and her insight and intelligence were brilliant. But when I left shortly afterwards, I spent the thirty minutes driving to my appointment, choking back the tears streaming down my face.
I don’t got milk. And I got no idea when in my life I am ever gonna get milk.