Last Time Mom

I sit here before you tearful and heartbroken.

My baby-est baby, my sweetest, my easiest baby, my LAST baby turns one in just a few short days. I'll never have a new baby, ever again. I'll never again have that feeling of empowerment that comes with pushing out a baby and literally giving someone a life. I'll never snuggle a brand new baby on the couch and be called a baby hog by my family. I'll never teach a new little one how to clap or play cars. I'll never nourish another little tummy with milk from my own body.

I know growing up is their job and I am so very, very grateful that I have been blessed with three healthy, precious people to raise into adulthood. I love watching my kids learning new things and having new experiences and I do my very best to make sure they don't miss out on ANYTHING, but this last baby.. I've held him back a little bit. Because I can't quite figure out how to let him go.

He's a Mama's Boy. The other two were Erik's. This one - he's mine. Everyone knows it.
He isn't sleep trained.
He still nurses up to 6 times a day.
He still wants to be held and carried all the time, and I'm perfectly fine with it.
I chew his food for him.
Okay, that's a lie. But I have no issue admitting that I plan to cut his meat until he's forty.

And you can ask around - I was a hard-ass with the other two.

So much discussion went in to starting our family. We discussed, we saved, we planned and dreamed before we dared open the door to parenthood. I spent so much time pouring over articles in preparation for my first baby. All the information you could possibly need, from birth plans and the other logistics of having a baby to emotionally preparing your pets can be found online. Everyone knows how hard it is to become a mother and all the mommy bloggers in all the land want to talk you down from the ledge that you inevitably end up on at some point (usually around 4AM) thanks to an evil combination of exhaustion, hunger, leaky boobs and the 6-week period that is the parting gift provided by the gremlin that just evicted your womb. (And you are NOT alone, it IS SO HARD TO HAVE AN INFANT!!!)

But no one has written about how to close that big door to creating new life, lock it, and walk away without tears flooding your eyes.
No one has written about how to know when you have had enough kids.
No one has written a how to on packing up the sweet smelling tiny baby gowns that most easily accommodate hundreds of overnight changes while managing not to daydream about the next sweet little person that will share your name.
No one can tell you how to stop the drive to create more of the people that you like and love more than anyone else in the world.

Because it can't be done.

Write about it? I can barely entertain the thought of it.

They say you are never ready for kids. That if you wait for the "right time" you'll never have any at all, and you just have to hold your breath and jump in. As it turns out, though, there's no "right time" to stop. If you wait for the "right time" you'll just end up with 100 babies that all eventually turn 2 and all hell breaks lose and you're left crumpled in the kitchen floor crying softly among mounds of dirty dishes that are calling your name now that all your kids (and your husband...) are finally asleep. Don't ask how I know.

We (kind of...) know our door is shut.

But I just can't manage to walk away without a broken heart.