Everyone asks if I’d have another baby.
The answer has never been no.
It’s just never been with the wrong person.
Because I don’t dream about tiny socks or another crib waiting in the corner.
I dream about partnership.
A man who reaches for the crying baby before I have to ask.
Who learns every birthday, every favorite color, every nickname, because love pays attention.
A man who understands that becoming a father isn’t something a child gives you.
It’s something you choose, again and again and again.
If one day I hold another heartbeat beneath my own,
it won’t be because I wanted more babies.
It will be because I finally found someone who wanted the family more than the fantasy.
Someone who looked at the children already here and never saw someone else’s responsibility.
He saw our life.
Because motherhood was never the part I was afraid of.
I already know how to love enough.
The next chapter depends on finding someone who does too.
Between Bruises and Blooms 
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