The signs that show you're done having babies.

Do you know if you’re finished having babies? Or are you agonising over that difficult decision to give it one more shot?

It could be because I have three kids already but for some reason, people don’t ask me if I am going to have any more children. I think I have the “totally spent and done” symbol branded on my forehead.

(Surely when they look at my three perfect angels, they know I couldn’t improve on perfection… right?)

I am one of the lucky ones. I just know. For people like me, the signs are obvious. The shop is shut. Closed. The shutters are up.

We are gazing at that tween section in the department store wondering what the gear is like, not wistfully caressing the Bonds all in ones.

We are secretly lurking in the school aged kids sections of the parenting forums, not even knowing where the “expecting in... ” section is.

We just know.

Here's how:

1. I didn’t feel any explosion of the ovaries at the recent pictures of Princess Charlotte.

To be honest I was more interested in whether they made that soft pink cashmere cardigan in a larger size. Did you see it? Can you imagine it with a great pair of dove-grey jeans?

2. I don’t even know what the newest prams are.

The Bugaboo Donkey was the hottest thing around last time I was in baby mode. These days I don’t know my Baby Joggers from my Stokkes.

When someone mentioned the Origami to me the other day, I genuinely thought they were talking traditional Japanese crafts.

We still have one pram rapidly growing mould on the front balcony used just in emergencies when two four-year-old's feet are too tired to scooter.

3. When I come across baby stuff that I haven’t yet ditched, I don’t get nostalgic. I just ditch it.

Every mum goes through that I-can’t-bring-myself-to-throw-out-the-baby-stuff phase doesn’t she?

For one of my closest friends a spare room filled with bassinets, bouncers, baby baths and breast pumps remained un-touched for seven years as she went back and forth over the do-we-don’t-we another baby dilemma.

(Finally they chucked it all and bought a boat.)

For me when I come across a stray baby-gro, a forgotten baby toy or even a bag of newborn nappies. I don’t hesitate to pack those little pieces of nostalgia straight up in a sweet little green bag and wack ‘em straight in the nearest charity bin.

4. I can eat BBQ favoured crackers again.

Pregnancy number two did it for me. Six months of tumultuous, no one-has-ever-been-sicker-than-me morning sickness and then I made the mistake one day of eating BBQ flavoured rice crackers.

Never again I swore. Until now. I can eat them again! And so never again I now swear... never again will I give them up.

This boy wants his mum to be done having babies too. Post continues after video...

5. When someone tells me they are pregnant, I congratulate them then tend to forget about it.

It’s not that I am not happy for them. I am thrilled to bits. But I then just get on with my day. I don’t focus on it or obsess about it. It is their news, not mine.

6. I can’t tell a baby’s age anymore from just looking at it.

I really can’t. I vaguely remember sometime three and a half years ago when my daughter sat up. But if you placed a six month old and a nine month old in front of me now, I would struggle to pick the ages.

7. I notice the sound of babies crying in shops.

I am not saying it annoys me (well, not much) , just that I notice.

When I was in full three kids under the age of three mode, I wouldn’t have noticed a chorus of quadruplets screaming to the tune of Hallelujah in front of me. But these days I notice the sound of a baby crying. I register it I try and tune it out and I move away.

8. I fantasise about holidays that are impossible with babies.

Skiing, cruises, hiking with the kids and Disneyland.

No more dreaming about Fiji with a baby pool ( on the ground floor for easy pram access). The hours spent on Trip Advisor have totally changed.

Now, just to actually have the holiday.

9. My geriatric dog has started waking me up in the night and it gives me the sh*ts.

Each night two or three times I hear the unmistakable sound of another being needing me. It's my dog.

My 13-year-old arthritic spoodle who can't get down the stairs without assistance. Of course I get up and take him down for a drink or a use of the backyard facilities.

Yet each time I do it I wonder what the heck I am doing. He's a dog!!! I just got past being woken up all night long.

10. I had new carpet laid.

Surely nobody would do that with the threat of projectile baby vomit cascading across the brand new creamy pile.

Now if only I could work out how to get the dog vomit off...

Happily, I am done.

What signs gave it away to you that you were done with having babies?