Second baby flew overseas last week, and first baby flew to the other side of Australia yesterday.
It was nearly 25 years ago that I first heard the term ‘LAC’, or as my colleague would put it, “We’ve got Life After Children, baby!!” As a new mother with an 11 month old and another on the way, LAC was a distant fantasy world that I could barely imagine, let alone ever hope to attain. So my colleagues decided it was their duty to teach me, their young Padawan, all the things I had to look forward to.
I listened longingly as they openly planned and discussed their regular outings. Summer was the worst, especially Fridays, when it seemed that almost every week there was a sunset concert in King’s Park. Like me, they were all music and food lovers, so every Friday morning they brought their crock pots to the office, set them up in the large kitchen (our offices had formerly been a stately home) and the day would be filled with the mouth watering aroma of 7 different dishes, slowly cooking in readiness for the sunset picnic. At the end of the work day the kitchen was filled with a gaggle of excited women, packing their picnic baskets and planning their rendezvous point for the evening, before heading off to collect their respective partners from work.
“LAC Baby!!”
Meanwhile, I was heading off to collect babies from childcare before meeting hubby at our rendezvous point, home, and the flurry of dinner, bath, and bed before collapsing on the couch.
Oh how I longed for LAC on those nights. Don’t get me wrong. I had longed for children and I fully embraced the role of parenthood. I loved my babies with all of my being.
I still do.
However, I also loved music, especially seeing live bands; and food, especially when someone else cooked it and cleaned up afterwards; and spending time with hubby, alone; and being spontaneous, from time to time.
I still do.
LAC was a reminder of the lifestyle we’d given up in our desire to be parents. It was something we had to let go of, in order to gain something better. In letting go we were prepared to never have that season again, and we were OK with that. For the most part. So my colleagues’ example really was a blessing to me. A promise that it would only be for a short time, and with that promise the admonition to treasure the season I was in.
And treasure it I did. In fact, I got so caught up in treasuring it that I almost lost a little bit of myself along the way. Fortunately she hadn’t gone too far, she was just sleeping until it was her time again. But when that time came, it wasn’t easy. It took a while for Mama Bear to accept the letting go of yet another season.
However, it wasn’t long before it was me who was exclaiming, “We’ve got Life After Children, baby!”
Yesterday afternoon, after dropping first baby off at the airport, we were both a bit melancholy, hubby and I. We decided a coffee was in order, but I couldn’t go to just any cafe, the melancholy demanded that I drink my coffee surrounded by beauty. So we ended up at Tomato Lake, and drank our coffee while watching parents enjoy time with their children.
So many memories.
We walked around the lake and crossed the boardwalk, which took us past a nesting area. Hundreds of Ibises were sitting in nests, some were flying off, others coming in to rest. I was watching my life being reflected back to me in nature.
So much symbolism.
We returned to an empty home later that night, to silence. Not the silence that comes from the absence of sound. No, this was the silence that comes from the absence of spirit.
The memories, the symbolism, the silence; all pointed to another side of Life After Children. A side my colleagues hadn’t mentioned, most likely because they had yet to experience it.
Our girls will be back soon, but I believe that this is a taster of what’s to come. My gut is telling me that this is the beginning of another letting go. This life holds purpose and opportunity for both of them that most likely won’t be found nearby.
Letting go is hard, because it involves change. This next letting go will be the hardest one yet. But it won’t be the hardest one ever. And it won’t break me, no matter how much I fear it. Because if there’s one thing this past year has taught me, it’s that no matter how hard a season feels, if I can meet it with Acceptance, Faith, and Courage, there will also be ‘good’ in that season.
About the Author
SARINA ELDER
Sarina is a Writer with a passion for Making A Difference (MAD).
As a first generation Australian who struggled with cultural identity as a child, Sarina understands the importance of Being, Belonging, and Becoming as a fundamental need in all of us, regardless of age.
As a misunderstood Creative, who was diagnosed with ADHD in her adult years, Sarina is particularly passionate about supporting others to identify and release their Creative, or the Creative in their children, and to embrace the Neurodiversity that accompanies Creativity.
Sarina believes the best way to embrace ourselves is through laughter, and is open to sharing her own stories with the hope of encouraging others.