The Day I Cried

When anyone asks if I enjoyed my pregnancies, my answer is always a resounding yes! I enjoyed being pregnant a lot. Maybe too much. There was something about carrying life that just seemed so beyond me. Plus...who faults a woman for eating for two or taking a nap in the middle of the morning?

We are done having children and the last time I went to the doctor for them to check my Essure procedure, it was a bit sad. The procedure was complete and everything looked good. Meaning everything was final. It was very surreal to realize that I would no longer be able to get pregnant.

But it really hit me when my sister-in-law had her first baby last month and I sat in their nursery and rocked in their glider. The excitement was palpable as we waited for her and her husband to arrive with their bundle. And it was at that moment, in that room, sitting in their rocker that I cried. That would never be me again. I would never again have 9 months to fall in love with someone I could only feel. I would never see my stomach grow and be okay with its size. I would never be pregnant again. The tears fell and for a moment I wondered if maybe I could have handled being a mom of three...

I know that our family is complete. I can stand with my husband and watch the kids playing and am happy. Truly happy. I know for me and my sanity, that two is a perfect number. Until I had children of my own, I never really knew how much work they require. I can appreciate you mom's and dad's with more than two that make it work like a well-oiled machine.

There will probably still be moments when someone is pregnant and I will be sad, but only for one moment. I'm not bashful about my tears. They are after all, good for the soul.


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The Fantastic Four

Today I officially made our family the fantastic four. After Teagan was born we began our discussion about our kid population and both of us agreed that we were happy with two. I never thought I would have one and feel blessed and thankful with two beautiful children. No need to push the envelope and so, we are done. Permanently.

Today I had a procedure called Essure which if goes the way it should guarantees us that our family will always only be 4. The fantastic four. A nice even number. A number that will give us each a child to ride amusement park rides with and snuggle with when there's a storm outside.

As I sat in the doctor's waiting room I thought about how I was feeling and if maybe I wasn't ready for the finality of things. But I am. I had a certain calm wash over me and I never felt the urge to bolt. If I am honest with myself there is only one thing that makes me sad...that I won't ever have the joy of being pregnant. Because even with a first trimester of nausea  I still loved being pregnant. I liked knowing I had life inside me. I liked the concern people showed as I got bigger. I liked the attention. But I know deep down, 3 or more children is not for me. I'm getting older and want to be sure I can always enjoy my children not tire of them. Props to older moms, I just didn't want that to be me. I'm already considered an older mom but I didn't want to be that older mom. You know...the one that looks like the grandma instead of the mom?

I know as friends and family around me (that are younger...some way younger) begin to start their own families I will feel a twinge of jealousy. But when I look at my own family and see how we fit together, just so...I know I will be alright.

How will I know?

So now that I have one child it is inevitable that everyone asks when I plan on having child number two. The first time I was asked I just laughed...Spencer was probably a month old and I couldn't tell up from down. The second and third times I was asked I just shrugged but began to think about it a little more.

I come from a decent sized family of mostly girls. When it came to having kids...my dad wanted at least one boy. So that was how they decided that 3 girls wasn't enough, let's try again. There are 13 years between my brother and I remember being so close to him and then going off to college. I still have letters he sent me tucked away and when I think about it realize that 13 years is too much time between children. But my dad had to get that boy!

I prayed that I would have a boy this pregnancy and took the necessary steps to help achieve having a boy. Nothing was foolproof, but we weren't taking any chances and now we have our boy. So now what excuse do we use to have another?

First there is age difference. Many say that 18 months is an ideal age difference between siblings. Which sounds good but that would mean I would need to be pregnant again by the end of THIS year! That's so quick and I don't mind the pregnancy part because I so enjoyed it. But this does not mean #2 will not be full of sickness, acne, hemorrhoids or swollen feet!

Then there is parenthood. My mom thinks that I am currently overwhelmed and to a degree she is right. There are days that I still can't tell up from down and Spencer refuses to be happy with anything we do. Could I handle a throwing a second child into the mix? Especially when the first would be on the verge of the terrible two's? I know plenty of people do it, but the question is can I do it and do I want to do it?

And finally there is Spencer...I want to be able to spoil him and spend time with him and not have to split or share that time. I will already have to share him with his daddy, who can't wait to whisk him away to play golf and other boys things! Because let's be honest, this infant stage is fun but the toddler stage is way cooler.

When I think about it, I can see myself with two children but when I really think about it and look into my little boy's cute face and he's smiling...well I can't see anyone but him.