Every now and then my life experiences a ‘baby boom’. A length of time where it appears as though everyone I know is announcing a pregnancy or introducing a teeny, tiny human to the world. My Facebook wall becomes graffitied with photos of chubby cheeks, baby booties, and shrimp sized black and white babies in the womb. If they haven’t had a baby then there is a picture of them holding their new nephew/niece/cousin/next door neighbour three times once removed. Currently I am experiencing one of these periods of time and for the first time since ‘Little O’ was born my womb has begun doing flips. ‘Oh please let me carry another baby for you, look how chubby their thighs are, remember the adrenaline rush of holding them for the first time, go on you know I make good ones!’
This week yet another batch of baby clothes was packaged up and put into storage. My youngest is suddenly out of nappies, in a ‘big girl’ bed and the stair gate has been removed from the landing. I keep uncovering a bubble of sadness every time I look at my children and realise they are definitely not babies any more. Not only are they not babies any more, but they are the only babies I will ever have.
There are a whole host of reasons as to why I won’t be having any more, and I am honestly very happy with the mutual agreement my husband and I came to, but the mothering instinct will always be there and that feeling of wanting more squidgy humans in my life will no doubt rear it’s head once more. To try and beat my broodiness I have constructed a list. This list usually sorts me out when the cuteness all gets a bit much.
Reasons not having more babies is OK-
– Hyperemesis. It’s not pretty, it’s not enjoyable, and so long as that womb stays empty you will never have to experience it again.
– Your intimate body parts will never again need reconstructive surgery following the tearing impatience of a baby with a 99th centile head attempting to fight its way into the world.
– Your figure will thank you. You got fat with baby one. You got fatter with baby two. Think what might happen with baby three. You are no longer a spring chicken, things might not snap back so easily next time.
– Sleep. Ahh glorious sleep. Little O is sleeping through the night. It only took two years. S took four. Don’t ruin it now, you are only just starting to resemble a human again.
– Your social life. At last you can go out with your friends knowing you won’t return home to a scene closely resembling a war zone. You will also not return home with boobs the size of boulders which you then need to cool off as you express pints of boozy milk whilst contemplating throwing up into the bath tub.
– Your pants drawer shall thank you. Oh how you laughed at the hideousness of maternity pants, jokes about Bridget Jones were made. As you wrestled your ever expanding bump into your first pair you longed for your silly little thongs and to feel sexy again. Why then did those hideous things sit in your pants drawer for so long, with you casually slipping into them for comfort and blaming the school run rush for not being able to find some sexy ones. They have now, at long last, been binned. Please don’t bring them back into your life.
– You were casually scanning a brochure of Caribbean holidays recently. In your mind you pictured a white sandy beach, Lynchburg Lemonade idly placed in your right hand whilst hubby tentatively holds your left. Coconut palms swaying in the breeze. Not a child in sight. Okay so you have not been able to bring yourself to leave your children for a length of time with anyone but your husband until now, and that’s fine! It takes time to feel confident enough. But if you have another child you can wipe away that daydream for good. Not only will you never feel confident leaving THREE little monsters with Grandma, your bank balance wouldn’t allow it either.
– You will have to wave goodbye to your Mini love for good. We have already had to upgrade to a Countryman. I don’t think Mini makes a car big enough for a family of five plus dog (and buggy and travel cot and enough clothes to dress a small army).
Anyway two is plenty. One for each hand, one for each parent. How are you supposed to catch three children on the loose in a public place? Reach for two and just pray for the third? No, we are just fine the way we are so next time a little ounce of broody appears in my life I shall pull out my list, turn on google and search for Westie Pups instead.