I am nearly certain that my journey of motherhood has reached its conclusion. Most of the time, anyway.
The initial plan was always to have two children, and I’ve been fortunate enough to welcome two wonderful boys into my life. I cherish them deeply, often wishing I could pause their growth in time. However, I also appreciate the advantages that come with having older kids. My youngest is nearing three years old, and this summer, he has been able to participate in more activities meant for bigger kids. We’ve enjoyed several movie outings together; we can share jokes; we can ride our bikes side by side. My boys play well together (when they’re not arguing), and sometimes my partner and I can engage in entire conversations without interruptions.
I find myself envisioning the freedom that awaits when my youngest begins full-day kindergarten. Since my first son was born over eight years ago, I’ve only worked intermittently. I genuinely enjoy my job, and I treasure moments of quiet and solitude (even a solo car ride to work would feel heavenly). Plus, our family could really benefit from the additional income. Extending my part-time work for a few more years seems impractical, as does the prospect of caring for another child or financing their education.
In general, I firmly support this plan, and as someone who likes to strategize, the thought of altering it doesn’t sit well with me.
Moments of Doubt
Yet, there are moments of doubt.
One recent Saturday, I woke up with my youngest son nestled between my partner and me. We looked down at his sleepy eyes and tousled golden hair. He rolled toward me, and I noticed how perfectly his little head fit in the curve of my neck. I breathed in his scent, a blend of last summer’s sunblock and baby shampoo, but primarily just him—a fragrance that defies capture in any bottle.
Meanwhile, my older son had already begun his day. He no longer needs to check in with us; he simply gets out of bed, turns on the television, and waits for us to shuffle into the living room. I can’t help but realize how quickly my little one will morph into that independent boy—the one who will no longer seek morning cuddles and whose head will no longer fit in the nape of my neck.
Just a few minutes later, I logged onto social media and stumbled upon a friend’s pregnancy announcement, complete with a photo of her positive pregnancy test. In that moment, it hit me hard: I will never experience pregnancy again. I will not have another newborn, nor will I navigate the toddler years again. But that’s the plan, I reminded myself. The objective is to move forward without experiencing any of those stages again.
The realization felt like a sudden stab to my heart. Although I had known this truth, it had never struck me with such intensity—raw and all-encompassing.
For the next couple of hours, I found myself ruminating over everything, calculating our budget and considering how old I would be when my second child starts kindergarten (40) and if I could fathom having another baby any sooner than that (no).
Decluttering and Acceptance
That afternoon, I undertook a significant decluttering of our home. After tossing out broken straws and outdated restaurant menus, I wandered into my older son’s room. As I sifted through a pile of books on the floor, I discovered a board book that both of my boys had adored as infants. Titled First Words, it features simple, colorful images of everyday objects like dogs, cats, shoes, and balls. Of all the similar books, this one was their favorite. It was well-loved and worn, held together by a piece of packing tape.
When my older son was small, I kept all his belongings aside for a future child (and I still do—my younger son is dressed in hand-me-downs). But upon seeing this book, I realized that chapter of my life had come to an end. I snapped a picture of it and placed it in the garbage pile.
I had almost forgotten that just hours earlier, I was contemplating the possibility of having another baby. Yet, that desire had vanished. I was at peace with the decision to part with this cherished book.
In truth, my yearning for more children often fluctuates—present at times but ultimately fleeting. When I truly desire something, it’s challenging for me to let it go, which suggests that I do not long for another child with great intensity.
Nonetheless, I hesitated to discard the book entirely. Instead, I placed it with our collection of baby keepsakes, which could easily be revisited if either of my boys decides to become parents…or if my 40th birthday approaches and I find myself with fleeting cravings once more.
Resources for Home Insemination
For those interested in exploring home insemination options, consider visiting Make a Mom for helpful resources. Additionally, this article provides an excellent overview of at-home insemination kits. For further information on reproductive technologies, here’s a valuable resource regarding in vitro fertilization.
Conclusion
In summary, deciding whether to expand your family is a deeply personal journey, filled with moments of joy, reflection, and sometimes heartache. While the idea of having another child may linger, the clarity of your current family dynamics often prevails, leading to a sense of peace and acceptance.
Keyphrase: decision to stop having children
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