I have 3 kids. They are beautiful, small, healthy, happy and vibrant beings. I love them with all my heart and they are a lot of work. I had 3 braggingly easy and wonderful pregnancies. My body LOVES being pregnant. No complications. All delivered vaginally, in my 40th week. Except for a few stretch marks (thunder <but she means lightning>, as my oldest refers to them), my body pretty much bounces right back.
As much as I LOVE having babies and LOVE being pregnant, this part of my life is coming to an end. (That sounds SO depressing!)
I am torn.
Darling husband is done having babies and is fulfilled with the fruit of his genetics he has produced. I have friends and acquaintances that absolutely KNOW with 100% certainty that they are done having kids. He is one of those. He has valid points:
- We can only stretch our 'resources' so far,
(resources... aka money)
- The children we have need all the attention they can get,
- If we have another, we would be squished in the minivan.
On days that the 3 angels stretch my soul and physical body to the limit, I say I am also done. But other days... Other days, I think... God! These kids are perfect and it was so awesome having them and I LOVE them sooo much, why not have more?!? I probably should have been born at that time where having 7 kids was the norm. But these days, I go to the grocery store with 3 kids and I have to have a clicker to count how many times I get told by a stranger that "I sure do have my hands full".
So these last 7 days of my husband's virility (is that the right word?), I will be dramatic and mourn my child bearing days. :(
Today is the day I mourn the way my huge belly looks so cute in those sundresses.
|July 2010, Somewhere in NC. |
Me, 8 mos. pregnant with my last - and the fam! I LOVE this picture. :)