Giving birth. That won't be happening anymore. The reality that 'child bearing years are over' usually doesn't bother me. But once a month or so, I get a little sad about it. Today, I had a notion that I can find a new way to nurture young life. I can plant things, create little flower gardens in different places. Last night as I drifted to sleep I recalled my grandfather ambling up and down the rows of his vegetable garden. That is childbirth. Yes it is. He clipped his roses, as parent scolds his child, picks him up and sets him in the corner. When I marry again, one day, we will plant things, and watch them reach up towards the sun, and enjoy the tender little green arms. And smile when a flower opens. And cry when a bush explodes in color, like a child taking his first steps, or a first word spoken. We will water the plants, as a parent holds her breast to a baby. It won't be the same, but God knew what He was doing when he allowed a woman's body to end the life giving process. He knew that her energy and focus would change. That her muscles would ache after bringing in a few small grocery sacks...and her eyes wouldn't focus on close up objects...so He helped her out. I can enjoy mothering in a different way. Now, mothering myself first. And saying "no" to demands that aren't essential. My body says, "No," and while pangs of maternal drive sometimes push hard inside of me, I see the wisdom in some things coming to and end.