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?

Happy 10th Birthday, Lindsey!

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