How did you know after your last baby you were done?
What would you do if you knew the last baby you had was your last baby ever? I used to read my friends posts about how they “knew” that they were done having babies.Or watch my girlfriend’s face when they told me that they were done. It was a look of certainty. I never understood what they meant. I always felt a little bit for sad for them that that time in their life was over. I guess, it made me sad that the possibility was gone. The thing I didn’t fully understand was that they made the decision not to have any more children. It wasn’t something that was taken away from them. They were mothers who knew what they wanted and knew their limits. Me, I was on the fence on whether or not I wanted a third child. I was pretty sure that I was done, but something inside me wouldn’t let me say never and same with the Big Guy. We left it to fate. We were careful but we weren’t protected.
I’ve always been one of those people who can bend a lot before breaking but once I am done…I am truly done. It’s like that with everything in my life from relationships to different activities. I am a pretty strong-willed optimist and I try to make everything work. When I am committed to a project, person or endeavor, I give it my everything but when I am done…it’s over and there are no do overs. So, when my heart couldn’t commit to no more children, I assumed it was because deep down inside I still wanted another baby. Maybe I did.
I don’t know if it were the thought of not ever having the possibility of one last baby or if we truly wanted another child. I do know that I love my daughters more than anything. Then last January, my sister gave birth to the cutest little boy I had ever seen and my ovaries were twitching hardcore, almost out of my body; twisting and turning and knotting up inside of me. I allowed myself to daydream about what it might be like to be the mother of a little boy or just to be a mother to a newborn again; to be pregnant and give birth. It’s easy to romanticize the whole thing the further you are away from it.
Part of me still wanted one last baby.
I’d always hoped that one day I would get to be the mommy to a little boy; to experience that. I adore being the mommy to my girls but being the mommy to a little boy was always something that I had hoped for, as well.
Last March, we found ourselves shocked and pleasantly surprised to learn that we were pregnant with our third and definitely last baby. I was 39, the gap was 5 and 7 years between our surprise and our girls but we were definitely excited. We were nervously anticipating telling everyone at our youngest daughter’s 5th birthday in May and we thought of names and daydreamed about what our last baby would look like. Then it was all just as quickly gone. It sucked. The deflation, the hurt and the losing of the dream was really hard to swallow. It almost broke me; in a way it did, I suppose.
Now, I am certain that I am done. I’ve packed that part of me away when I lost our last baby. I think, first and foremost, it made me realize that I still wasn’t really sure all those times that my ovaries twitched if I wanted another one of my own or if I just really love babies, in general. I knew I wanted our pregnancy from the moment that I realized I was pregnant, but had I not gotten pregnant without trying would I have really entertained the thought of having another baby at that point in out lives? Secondly, I realized that I am not strong enough to suffer another loss. I know a lot of women who have suffered multiple losses and they continue to try again and again but I cannot. Experiencing one loss almost destroyed me.
So every time I even let myself entertain the thought of trying again, it is immediately met with a deep sadness and pain in my heart, a gaping wound that I am not willing to reopen, not ever. The pain is still too fresh in my heart to get past it.
I have two beautiful babies here with me and one in heaven and that is who I am. A mother who was blessed with three babies, no more; no less. I have peacefully accepted that. I don’t wonder about another baby anymore. I don’t let my mind wander off into what ifs. I don’t daydream about babies breath and tiny fingers wrapped around my finger as my child looks up into my eyes with complete love. My heart no longer aches at the thought of not having that again. I am done and finally, I know what it feels like to say the words and know it’s true.
How did you know when you were truly done having children and that your last baby was your absolute last?