When MC and I first met, I remember a conversation where he was adamant he would have six children. I drew the line at three. I was pretty confident that our relationship was doomed, no way was I birthing six babies - I'm a woman, not a cat!
Then we welcomed Amelia and there were lots of tears to compensate for the not so lots of sleep being had and MC decided one baby was enough.
I told him to shut up and give me more babies. He said no but well, more babies I got. Beautiful, unplanned babies.
So many women talk about feeling a sense of completeness when they have their last baby. They know in their heart that the little being in their arms has made their family complete. They know in their heart that they will never be pregnant again - and they are ok with that.
Within an hour of Abigail being born, I knew that we were not complete. Oh don't think that means I was already planning another baby in my head but it was just a little twinge somewhere, that told me she shouldn't be my last baby. Once I acknowledged it, the feeling settled and I went back to soaking up my squishy little newborn.
The only problem with this feeling of being incomplete? MC doesn't share it with me. He feels he is done. We spoke about it over dinner the other night and he declared no more babies with such finality that I had to look away as tears pricked my eyes.
With Abi only being six weeks old, I haven't and I won't give the issue much more thought but when I do think about it in passing, I can't help but feel incredibly sad. It could just been hormonal, right?
I know that I am beyond blessed to carry and hold three beautiful, healthy babes but I just don't feel like I'm done having babies. I wonder if that twinge, that longing for another sticks around or if it passes? Ugh.