Three years ago this week I was 35 weeks pregnant with Ivy and apparently had thinner arms than I do now but also, three years- THREE YEARS it's been since I had a baby in my belly? That just absolutely took me by surprise.
I've found myself so adamant about being done having babies that I'm almost all the way on the other side of the fence again... thinking... and second guessing the empty womb. All of this is probably due to the fact that all of my children now sleep through the night for the most part and are growing-ly independent and thus the memory-loss happens of how life is with many children and a baby. Oh the memory, it fades.
We saw Jim Gaffigan over the weekend and he described what having four kids was like: "Imagine you are drowning. Then someone hands you a baby."
Of course it's a joke. I love having four kids and that love often nudges me into thinking five would be even more awesome. I am sure it would be. But I don't know if I'm meant for that kind of awesome today- or rather- 9 months from now. And it's not even about the money or the size of our house anymore. It's much, much deeper than that.
It's never comfortable talking about not having any more babies. I always feel like I'm going to say the wrong thing even when I'm obviously only speaking for myself. I think I feel like some camps are disappointed that we don't keep on and other people of course think we have way too many kids already. And who cares what either thinks? I can't even make up my own mind about it.
I'm just being wistful today. I love being pregnant, and I love that I love when I'm not.