I held that sweet little bundle of goo and didn't turn into one myself. I enjoyed the opportunity to hold a baby, but didn't yearn to do it again with my own. My ovaries didn't sing, "Maybe just one more, for old time's sake?" My uterus didn't beg for one last chance at bat. My body just said, "Cute baby, glad it is yours and not mine."
|I will miss this|
And I knew. I knew I was done with this phase of my life. Done with the bottles and the sleepless nights and the baby vomit. But also done watching Project Runway while a baby calmly sleeps on my chest.
Babies are sweet and wonderful and the miracle of life, but they are for me no more. I will relish the chances to hold my friends' babies as they come, but will no longer want for another one of my own. It was a great feeling. Knowing that we are complete as a family and being at ease with it.
Now accepting all applications to babysit your babies to help me get my fix/keep me strong in my convictions to close up my lady parts for good.
If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.