No more babies

I never cry. Like ever. Since J and I have known each other he has only witnessed one full-blown, cry-fest from me, and that was when I thought we were miscarrying Miss H. So it was a big deal.

But there have been a handful of times when I've got all teary-eyed, just never actually cried. That's when J laughs and tells me that I really do have a heart. Because, you know, I'm heartless...

Like last night. J was watching a re-run of "Bones" and I was filling out baby B's 1st birthday invitations (how the frak is that possible!?) and the spouse of one of the characters who was pregnant makes the comment about finding out she's pregnant being the best news he's ever received.

Yeah, I got teary-eyed then.

J's all, "what's wrong?" and I'm like, "His baby is the best news he's ever heard and I'm filling out OUR baby's 1st birthday invitations. Our baby isn't a baby and we're done with babies!"

J looks at me with those big brown saucers he has for eyes and says, "You just told me last week after I said, 'Okay, let's have another for real.' that you were done and didn't really want another. So now you want another?"

"Hell no!" I answered. "I AM done. I'm just hormonal and emotional and want time to slow down. I don't remember being this sad when Miss H turned a year old."

"Well, you knew she wasn't last," he replied.

And that's true. I guess it's just different when you know that you'll never have another baby again. It's all so definitive.

But, let's be honest. Babies are so freaking romanticized. They have to be. Or else no one would ever have them.

Although I love my babies. And even love other peoples babies, I like the 1+ crowd better. I like when they can communicate and verbalize and just in general are less needy. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I'm okay with that. I'm still getting up 2-4 times a night with my 2 year old. I know the day they both sleep through the night consistently (they do that by 12, right?) I won't be sleep deprived enough any longer to even fantasize about another baby.

I think there will be a part of me that will always love the idea of being pregnant again. Of, call me crazy, birthing again. There is something about birth that fascinates and amazes me. That empowers me. And I wouldn't mind the experience again.

I wouldn't even mind another baby. So if something went crazy with the plumbing and we did have another, I'd be totally cool with that.

But I'm fairly confident that we will not make any decisions to actively have another child. Two is it. And we're both more than okay with that.

But it's still fun to say to J randomly, "Don't you want another baby?" just to see his face light up at the thought, because he cannot get enough of H and B, and then watch him shake his head and say, "No, we'd lose our minds."

What a funny man who thinks we still have our minds...