Last night, J~ and I took a walk, ate a peaceful dinner, went our separate ways to complete some chores and phone calls, and then lay down side by side, tired, and smiling at each other from our respective pillows. "Wow," J~ said after a long silence. "I just got a really strong image of us lying here, just like this, with a baby between us."
My first thought was cynical: Just like this, my ass. We'd be a hell of a lot more tired. But I let go of that. For just a second, I let myself picture it too. It was a beautiful picture, full of love, and shockingly easy to imagine. I looked into his eyes, and we both laughed. Wow, I thought. He really does want to do this.
And then I felt how much I love him. And then I wanted to jump his bones (but didn't -- too tired). And then I felt a wave of apprehension, because a new picture flashed through my mind: Us lying here, just like this, only years from now, having accepted that the baby wasn't going to happen for us. It wasn't a terrible image. There was as much love in it, but also sadness.
I just wish it wasn't so shockingly easy to imagine.