Sometimes I'm OK with letting The Fates make decisions for me.
For example, if there are three or fewer cars in line at the drive thru, sure! I'll stop at Starbucks on my way to work! Or, if I have somewhere to be and traffic seems like it's a pile of miserable dipped in ridiculous in one direction, I will happily change my course and take a slightly more scenic route. More commonly, I allow The Fates to decide what's for dinner. Whether it be by stopping at the next exit on the highway and just going with whatever happens, or by walking out in the garden and picking whatever is ready for harvest to prepare that night, whatever. Just ... whatever. I can deal with what The Fates decide is right.
But sometimes The Fates make decisions without my permission.
"Momma, I want a baby brother or sister," Alexis will say. ALL OF THE TIME.
Sorry, Alexis. The Fates don't want you to have your way.
"I'm so glad to be done with pregnancy forever," the twitters will say.
What's that like? I seriously don't know.
"Our family is complete," the words stare at me from Facebook.
There are moments when I think I can relate to that sentiment, but there are far more moments when I'm baffled by what that must feel like.
"We are so done," and "This is my last pregnancy," and "I'm a little sad that this is the last time I'll have a newborn," and on and on. I see and hear the conversations, and I think about The Fates and how they've stolen those thoughts from me. They have robbed me blind. Literally. I didn't see them coming -- The Fates broke into our home in the dark of the night and stole our right to make that simple decision. I had no idea The Fates were standing there and choosing our path for us.
If I had a rewind button, maybe I'd zip back in life just a little bit. Maybe I would savor some of those lasts just a few seconds longer. Maybe I would give The Fates permission to take control.
And perhaps I'd kick The Fates in face while I had them there standing in front of me.