I was leaving my 6 week post partum checkup lugging a baby carrier and herding a two other children out the door. My midwife stopped me and asked ‘Are you thinking of having any more?’
I laughed. I always think it’s strange when people ask that question. I’m not sure if people just want to know or if they think they should have a say in the decision. I understand her questioning was probably medically related to some level but nevertheless, I laughed.
Having just spent 9 months housing the cutest little peanut around and then navigating life with three kids aged 4 and under, I laughed. That pregnancy TOOK. A. TOLL. My body screamed the entire time and let out a sigh as soon as she was born. My body basically told me that entire pregnancy that it was done.
‘I’m almost positive she’s my last,’ I replied.
‘Always treat each one like it’s your last,’ she called as I chased down the 2 year old.
Those words sank in. They sank in HARD as I watched my newborn turn into a baby and into a toddler. Each little milestone was met with wet eyes and a sinking heart. I cherished those days so much and tried to take in each first and last.
A few weeks ago our baby all of the sudden was a big girl. She didn’t need a crib anymore and we knew it was for the best to sell it so we didn’t have to store it. I was fine until the couple came to pick it up. They were expecting their first in a few months and I was all of the sudden brought back seven years to when we were expecting our first. It flew. It flew so incredibly fast that sometimes I don’t even know if it actually happened.
I was so sad just knowing that we had given up something that each of our babies slept in. I get so attached to things like that and I’m not sure that I should. But, here we are. Teary eyed talking about a beat up, chewed on, crib.
Each night I hear, ‘I want to Wock!’ It’s the phrase that comes right before actual crawling into bed. The rocking chair is still up there and I don’t think I can ever get rid of that. That thing has racked on so much mileage for the past seven years. Each night after stories and prayers, she bolts to the other room to get in some rocking, singing and maybe a book. She might just love that sweet time together but I think she has learned the art of stalling and manipulation.
But, I do it. Every. Single. Time. I agree to it.
Just in case.
Just in case she forgets to ask the next night.
Just in case she realizes that she’s too big.
Just in case it’s the very last time I rock my very last baby.
Just in case.
I’m sure every momma out there that has had a last baby can agree with this to some extent. For every momma out there that isn’t there yet, you’ll be there before you know it. When you’re in the thick of it you don’t realize it and before you know it, you’re wishing your last baby would just decide to be a baby for a little bit longer.
Just in case.