I hold my littlest close; her legs dangle off of my lap and her arms wrap tightly around my neck as she squeezes and giggles. She’s still small but no longer tiny. I exhale deeply and hold on tightly too, drawing out the moment for as long as possible.
I wonder if I will always feel a small ache when I gaze at wrinkly newborns. If I’ll always wish that my body could have been a little kinder to me as I carried and birthed two babies into this world. After a traumatic experience with the birth of my first, two very difficult pregnancies and an emergency surgery in between, my husband and I knew that this was it—she was it—and we were blessed to even end up with her.
Nurturing and loving on my child—the sense of being so needed and loved—just feels so right. And I don’t want it to end. She looks at me as if I hung the moon and sprinkled the sky with stars; yet it was she and her big sister who managed to light up the sky on my darkest nights.
Time and time again they’ve given me a reason when I struggled to find one. I’ve found this sense of purpose in the mothering of my babies; they are reminders of the good that their daddy and I have done in this world.
For so long I was happy and content with one child. And then we were given the most beautiful surprise and our hearts made room for another love. Nowadays the three of us couldn’t imagine life without her. I was meant to be the mama of these two precious girls. But it’s hard not to wonder what it would be like if there were three.
Part of me is afraid of a life that isn’t filled with nurturing little ones. So many of my life’s decisions have been shaped by this role I had the honor of taking on as I simultaneously stepped into adulthood years ago.
I’m scared of not being needed in a way that has felt like my calling.
Continue reading I Still Dream of Having Another Baby at mom.me.