I can’t help but shake this feeling lately.
The time has come to pack away our baby things. The blankets, wraps, onesies and even the bassinet, it’s time to go. Except this time, I know it’s the last time I’ll ever use them. It’s like the end of an era. My baby making days are through, and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that.
We’re done having babies, don’t get me wrong, there won’t be anymore, for a number of reasons. We knew baby number three was our last, and it was solidified by the extra trauma experienced during her birth – if I wasn’t done before that, I am definitely done now. Even my OB mentioned that it might not be wise to go again. It’s just that, I can’t shake this sinking feeling in my gut.
Deep down, I just don’t know that I want to be done.
I can clearly remember the deepest, darkest nights with my first-born. I would sob; I honestly didn’t know how I was going to do it. It was too much. Was I every going to sleep again? What I’m I supposed to do with this child? I would often wonder why anyone would do this more than once? Yet here I am. What’s more, I can’t even believe after everything we’ve been through, that I would even be feeling this way – but I do.