I have never understood the phrase “drawing a line in the sand.” How drawing a line that will surely be washed away in the next 24 hours can be an indicator of an unwavering stance is a mystery to me.
But I still do it. I draw lines in the sand. Sometimes the lines are washed away by the ocean and I meticulously draw them again. And still other times I am grateful to the great and powerful ocean for letting me change my mind.
I have not drawn an irreversible line in the sand with regards to making more babies. There has been no snipping or frying or tying of anything, not mine or MQD’s. This is not to say that I have not quietly wept and pressed my lips against Lucy’s head, inhaling her sweet scent and choking back the ugly tears because I know that she is my last baby.
Shortly after she was born MQD and I would joke about more babies. I joked. He smiled. My newly post-partum hormones gave way to hysteria one day and I begged him to say it out loud that we were enough, the four of us. He had the good sense to keep smiling and say “Of course.”
We are a family of four. I am more than satisfied. Sometimes I see a mother and a little boy in overalls and I will tell his parents “Most of the time I am at peace with having two little girls, but damn if a little dude in overalls doesn’t make me start to wonder.” Sometimes a woman will laugh and say “You want him?” Sometimes she will say “You could have one more? C’mon, you could try?”
I used to explain. I’d explain about how happy I am with the spacing between our two children and that if I was to wait four or five more years before I had another I would be 43. I am tired now at 38. Sometimes I would tell her about how I am certain that my husband is blessed/cursed to spend his life in a house full of women and that I know we’d have three girls if we had another. Or I’d laugh about how 2 kids means we can keep our house and our cars. I would mention that my husband and I have always had children and while I adore them with every fiber of my being I do look forward to a day when he and I can be alone.
There are so many reasons. Some humorous. Some sincere. All of them valid. I am done.
This afternoon I cleaned out Lucy’s closet. I do it frequently. I am a sentimental soul but I save memories and moments in time with photographs and words. I am a recovering packrat and I am cautious not to fall down the rabbit hole of “saving just this one thing.”
So when I put these overalls on the “Donate” pile and my eyes welled up I didn’t know what to make of it. She didn’t even wear them all that often. It can’t simply be that she is growing up so fast. There was a pile of clothes she had outgrown that didn’t make my nose start to tingle and my eyes leak.
Why the overalls? Right there on the front they say “OshKosh Girl.” These overalls aren’t for the boy that I think I am destined to bring in to the world. And surely the pile of pink I was donating could be useful if my suspicions proved themselves to be accurate and we had another little girl one day.
I put the overalls back in the closet. And I sat down on the floor and I had a good cry. “Mama? Mama sad?” Lucy asked. I started to laugh.
“Baby girl, I have no idea what I am. Except pregnant. I know I am not pregnant. Mama isn’t sad, Lucy. Mama just might be a little bit crazy.”
It’s a good thing proximity to small pairs of overalls has nothing to do with getting pregnant. Because if teeny OshKosh could knock you up I am afraid we’d be expecting a baby next summer.
Excitement on the side 
I had a hysterectomy when I was 37. I had never planned on having kids after 35, and when 35 passed without a special man in my life, I kind of resigned myself to not having more kids. I had needed the hysterectomy for a few years, and when I finally got the opportunity to have it, I was excited. But that didn’t mean I didn’t cry every day for a week before it, all the way to work, and all the way home. Crazy, huh? Now my “baby”, is almost 13, looks 17, and towers over me. I’m a sad momma too.
These damn kids and their growing. Parenthood is the only job I can think of that if you do it right it slowly breaks your heart. xo
I’m not done. Sadly, my husband (says he) is.
One more, universe? Please?
Ugh, this kills me! I know we are done, but not because some magical switch flipped in my brain once Jaron was born. I wanted 6,( you have my permission to gasp, jaw drop, and shake your head) yes, little ankle biters. But my body apparently disagreed with my heart… It’s been 13 months and they still are not on the same page…
Jakota, give it time. And keep trying. :winkwink
I saved a tiny pair of jeans from my son. And a little shirt and some shoes. For our second, which I wasn’t sure we’d have, we adopted a girl. I wanted a girl and it was the only way to make sure that’s what we got. It was the best thing we’ve ever done, right up there with our bio son. Not one bit of difference in how I feel about them. But, we did it when I was 43 and I’m tired.
Ha. “I’m tired.” I hear that. I can totally see that adoption vs bio is the same in the love department.
*my family WASN’T done (proofread Christie)
I was done. Definitely done, my tubes tied and everything. I’d hold a baby an think “aww, this is so sweet but where is mom time to give it back now, baby fix done. For six years! Then my insane brain got that itch again and I got that feeling that our family was complete and I wanted just one more. Now we have Jacob and Tyler :). Sometime I don’t know if it’s a “be careful what you wish for tale” or “love provides all kinds of unexpected miracles”, I guess it depends on the kind of day we are having.
You are amazing. I remember looking at your pictures when the twins were born and smiling… smiling because they were so cute! I will consider this a cautionary tale.
It took me until Anya was around 4 years old to know that I was DONE, and I had plenty of good cries about how nice it would be to have a third before her fourth birthday. You’ll probably still have a few more good cries. :)
Oh, no doubt. I do so love a good cry.
With hormones out of whack because of weaning MY LAST BABY this just about killed me.
Apologies. I should have warned you.
No way, Dude. Sometimes you just need a good cry.
Wow. I literally just posted something along these lines this morning. We’re having a boy but I wonder what it would be like to have a girl. And I don’t think we’ll be having another. I heard you totally. Thank you for making me feel like I’m not a horrible person for wondering what it would be like to have a baby of the opposite sex.
Kristin, I more than wondered. I openly wept for the loss of the “little boy with a suitcase and a newsies hat” that I had dreamt about knocking on my door. I was certain Lucy was a boy and while I loved her from the moment I felt her crowning I was sad that I would never see this little boy I was sure was coming. Now? I can’t imagine not having Lucy. But it sure is weird the way our minds and hearts work us over.
I love your heart, Kelly.
It’s a heavy one from time to time but it sure does serve me well. Thanks, Annette.
I kind of have to agree with Steph. You don’t sound done. When I was done, I knew it. We have been officially done for almost 2 years and not once have I regretted it.
HA. Such is the beauty of the IUD. I’d have to actually make a phone call and a doc appointment before I could get pregnant. No passing thought baby making here, whew.
I dunno man, doesn’t sound ‘done’ to me. :) When I was done I knew I was doooooooone. I never had one doubt or look back. Just sayin’.
Ha. I knew someone would say it. I suspect it is just Lucy getting read to turn two that has me in a tizzy. I am DONE. Promise.
There you go, making me cry again, right on cue.
It had been a while, Emily. You were due. ;)