After my last pregnancy and subsequent life threatening delivery, I was told by my doctor that I should not have anymore children.
Being one who does not like to be told what to do and who also tends to want another newborn the minute my last child (or children) drop the first sign of babyhood, I did not appreciate this warning.
Since that day I have been secretly dreaming of how to expand our family one person more. I have thought about surrogacy and adoption and just about every other alternative to having just one more. (If you know me in real life, I hope you were already fanning yourself during this confession, we don’t need anyone passing out while blog reading.)
I think I’m done. The dream is over.
I have been around a baby or two lately and the itch is gone. I love holding them and breathing in that baby-soap scent but lately I am oddly content to give them back and return to running and playing with my active bunch while carrying a glass of wine (ooooh or a margarita) because I can. My body is no longer inhabited by or providing nourishment for another being, and I can have a drink if I want to and sip extreme amounts of caffeine and take medication that actually works for a headache.
The baby phase of mommyhood is as amazing as it is challenging but I am not there anymore. I am the mom to a strong-willed toddler and crazy three year olds and a moody teenager. I have finally freed myself from the waiting-for-one-more baby stage and am content right where we are at.
The cradle is headed for craigslist and my maternity clothes are taking a one way trip to the Salvation Army.
As I said yesterday.
We are good.
|Official title holder of the coveted “Youngest” spot|
Stay tuned for next week’s post: Oops Honey, did I say that? Let’s go ahead and get that vasectomy reversed.
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