Who Loves Babies?
Babies, babies, babies. I love babies. From their chubby little bellies, their tiny feet, their toothless grins, and their baby smell, I love everything about babies. And I loved being pregnant. I loved being a part of God’s miracle. As women, we are so lucky to be a part of that.
I have a hard time accepting that my time to have babies is over. Not that I don’t have enough to deal with now. With a loving, supportive husband, I might have wanted to have more. But there’s another part of me that thinks I would never want to start over. I see my cousin with her twins and they are the sweetest babies ever, she’s a great mother, but I wonder how she does it.
I’m exhausted just thinking about it, and I also love more than anything that mine don’t need to be potty trained. When I get down about being finished with the having babies part, I remember potty training, teaching them to read, and to ride a bike. Those had to be the three hardest things I ever had to do with my kids.
So on the night that my littlest one turns 10, I think I’m fine with the fact that I’m through populating the planet. I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m raising three great girls and that’s all I can handle on my plate. God knew what he was doing when he gave me three girls. If I was going to have to be a single mom, I’m so glad it’s for girls. I can relate to girls, for the most part.
So I work at the church nursery to get my baby fix, I sit and wonder why people don’t ask me to babysit more, and I wait patiently for my friend Anna to start procreating. That will get me by for now. And really, would I want to start over with the finish line in 8 years, awesome fictional husband or not?