On the weekend my family attended a dinner with some of my
husband’s friends. One of his good friends has a nine-month old. She’s a sweet
little thing, crawling around and pulling herself up.
My husband looked at me from across the room, where he was
watching the baby, and says, “Let’s have another.”
Without hesitation, I responded, “No.”
He laughed because he wasn’t serious. We have agreed that we
are done. Both of us are happy we had two children and have enjoyed every stage
as they grow (at least so far).
I have no desire to go back to the start again.
Two of my cousins and my sister-in-law had babies this year
and one of my close friends is pregnant with her first. I look forward to
cuddling all those babies when I get to see them. I also look forward to handing
them back to their parents and going home.
I lost three-years of sleep between my two girls –
literally. If I got more than an hour sleep at a time during the first 18-months with
either of them, it was a glorious day. I don’t intend to lose anymore sleep
until my oldest daughter hits her teenage years.
Maybe I don’t yearn for a baby because I was so sleep
deprived that I don’t remember what it was like except that I didn’t sleep and
was a raving lunatic.
My youngest also just started school. Can you hear me
cheering? I find four to be a magical age. They are now old enough to be more
independent and entertain themselves for more than ten minutes at a time. While
she entertains herself, I can do things uninterrupted, and sometimes complete
the task, like folding laundry, sweeping or (gasp) sit down and read a chapter
in a book. I’m looking forward to getting some semblance of my life and hobbies
back.
I also started cleaning out the boxes and boxes of baby
items in the attic, passing them on to family members who are having babies,
friends and selling some. I have a box of toys at my store that I’m selling as I
smuggle them out of the house.
I love babies and look forward to cuddling everyone else’s,
but I am done.
(Now let’s hope I haven’t kicked fate too hard by professing
all this.)
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