And boy have I got them bad.
Our youngest is 5. We are done. We were "done" before our youngest was born. My body could probably not handle another pregnancy. But that does not mean my heart does not twinge a bit with every baby I see.
It is sad, really. My baby is a big girl. As I hear vocabulary coming from her that is a few years ahead of her age, I am reminded very clearly during our conversations. My youngest son is about to enter middle school and my oldest is a teenager.
I know, I know. No more dirty diapers, puked on shirts, sleepless nights from teething. I know that I will never have to look for a changing table. Sleepless nights from the kids are the exception and not the rule. I celebrated with O was finally totally potty trained. And now, being a FFW with a newborn and FOUR other muppets, I know that is insanity. I know that, but sometimes...
And now, as I sit here on my own trying to not take that next pain med, I long for those days when I could scoop the babies from the bassinet and just be amazed that I was able to have such a part in that miracle. The baby smell, the sleepy smiles, the milestones.
But, alas, the times they are changing. In 10-15 years there will probably be babies back in our house, they just won't be mine. They will be my grandkids. I am not in any rush, but at the same time...
Hopefully some babysitting will take care of it and I can get my baby fix that way. Wish me luck.
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