When you realise that you are done having babies
After the birth of my son, my husband announced that we were “done” with having any more children. It hadn’t been a smooth ride my second pregnancy, with 5 miscarriages before we finally got to have our son. My husband decided we should be grateful for what we had been blessed with and finally relax as a family. When he said this, I nodded in agreement in a love and drug-induced daze.
As my son grew, I was content with having my two children, they are a handful, and the idea of throwing another into the gang is haemorrhoid inducing. But as they became more independent, a strange feeling overcame me. Something along the lines of feeling like an empty vessel or some other metaphor explaining how my purpose was now “done”.
Somehow, I didn’t think I would be done after two if I had maybe I would have enjoyed my pregnancy more. Cherish every kick instead of complaining. It’s a strange feeling when you realise that your body, which grew and shot out two amazing kids, that I will never do that again. Biology gave me these woman parts to make cute, fat and sometimes moany (ok, always moany) babies. Somehow, they just hang about, battered and bruised, never to be used again. Completely useless.
I often think we may be one of those couples who will have a “surprise” pregnancy
My cycle is like clockwork, and after trying for my son for so long, I can pretty much pinpoint my ovulation time. Do I sometimes hope that a little sperm will make its way through and bring us another baby? Sometimes but I respect my husbands wants as well as mine.
It really is fine, though. I don’t regret that we wouldn’t be having anymore. I love our little family, it’s perfect, and we fought hard to get it.
I think that coming to terms with the fact that you are done having babies is hard, whether this is after you have had one baby or 18 babies… realising that this is your LAST baby is something to stop you, to make you think, to make you appreciate and miss what you had and have.
But…I can’t help but think, what if?
I will never again feel those exciting first kicks, the love that comes with holding your new-born for the first time. I will never watch in awe as my child smiles at me for the first time or calls me “mama”.
I don’t believe the feeling will ever go away, it’s programmed into me. My best friend isn’t long having had a baby, and I held that squishy bundle, and I could feel that feeling inside of me again for a short time. My children are growing into awesome little humans, but I can’t help the feeling I get when I realise, they don’t need me to do everything for them. I find contentment in my decision to only have two because some days I can’t even handle them!
There we are though; I am very proud of my little family. They are mine and individual and challenging (sometimes I question having two). And I’m coming to terms with the feelings that I won’t experience having a new-born again… It reminds me of where I’ve been, who I am, and what I have achieved. And it also reminds me of how crazy I was in my early 20s, that I may have never wanted all this.