We’re never having another baby.
I’ll never celebrate a 1st birthday again.
My baby will never be a big sister.
Motherhood has this weird effect on you. It’s literally a roller coaster of highs and lows. And the scary part is, you never really realize how the hormonal changes are going to hit you, or even when, until you’re knee deep in uncontrollable sobbing.
Today, we celebrated our baby’s 2nd birthday. Even though she’s 2 now, she will forever and always be my baby. We happily gave her whatever she wanted to do the whole day. She got to pick her meal options the whole day (oatmeal, cream cheese toast, and Chick-fil-a for those enquiring minds). We let her go to Target and pick out candy (she choose gummy bears) after she said that’s what she wanted to do. She got to make all the choices. It was such a simple and carefree day.
But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t low moments either.
Seeing her newborn picture pop up in my newsfeed instantly brought me back to those first moments of having her in our life. Seeing the first picture of her and her older sister bonding immediately hit me that she will never get to play the big sister role. I know that our nursing relationship may be coming to an end sooner than later. She’s running out of “firsts” to celebrate.
I didn’t realize how much I still want another baby.
I want to feel life growing inside of me again. Little hiccups and legs stretching.
I want to see Andrew’s giddy face as he feels the baby move for the first time.
Part of me wishes we could argue again about what we are going to name our baby.
I want to feel the rush of naturally giving birth and holding a squishy human for the very first time.
I want to feel the instant bond of euphoria as I nourish my baby into their first milk drink coma.
Desperately, I yearn to watch as my girls bond with a new baby. Loving and kissing and snuggling with their sibling.
I want to watch as this person that I helped to create grow into their own unique personality.
And as much as I love my girls with all of my heart, part of me will always want to have given Andrew a son.
I didn’t realize how much I still want another baby, but I’m trying to accept this is our reality.
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This.
I only have my soon to be 5 year old, I lost my second child to an early miscarriage and it shattered my world. I’ve been warring with the decision of “am I done” for years now; we live with family till we can buy a house and we are older (34 and 36)… do I really want to start all over again?
But then I realize I’ll never be pregnant again.. never nurse again… never celebrate a first birthday again… everything you mentioned and I just want to cry.
We still have all our son’s and angel baby’s things in storage and I just can’t bring myself to give them up yet.
I love my son and love that he gets all my attention but it makes me sad that he may never have a sibling… I’m so close to mine and I feel like he’s missing out. But on the flip side, we’ll be able to do more with him as he gets older (expense wise) if we only have just the 3 of us.