Every now and then I think about having a third baby, I think about those first few moments when you meet your new baby, the way they snuggle on your chest, the way they look at you (as if memorizing the face of the one who unconditionally loves them). I think about the possiblity of having a little girl, the name I have been hoping to give, the ladybug themed room I planned on buying when pregnant with Mason, as I was so sure I was having a girl until the ultrasound proved differently.
Then reality strikes! "Momma, I want milk. Momma, why is your hair short? Momma, your not old, your skin isn't wrinkly or bumpy!", meanwhile Mason is crying and pulling at my pant-leg or attempting to climb onto the barstool, just to be a part of the action. I think about the balance (ha, who am I kidding) I (we) have established. Between working, getting the kids to and from daycare, and taking care of the household stuff, it seems like most days are a frenzie of "getting it all done".
It seems to me that I have all that I hoped for, that I should be so fortunate to have the babies I have, the husband I have, the life I have. So I think I have finally made peice with the fact that we are done having babies (although we still need to permanently fix that issue).
I am content with the life we have established and am start lookng forward to the next chapter in ourlife, to all the great adventures we will soon have!
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