Closed For Business

For baby business, that is. 

As of last week, Jamie and I finalized our decision to have only two kids. And while that had always been the plan long before we’d had children or even gotten married, it was with one fell swoop that we officially closed shop. Better yet, no doctors or snip-snip procedures were necessary (did you hear that sound? That was Jamie’s man-region breathing a sigh of relief).

So … how? How did we guarantee that we would permanently remain a family of four?

I’ll give you a hint:

There may have been a kid in those bags, too ... but weren't going to double-check

Those, dear readers, are 6 bags of baby clothes and toys left on our doorstep early one ‘morn for a donation truck. Nothing says “We’re done having kids” more than giving away 100% of your baby stuff, because there is no effing way we’re going to put ourselves in the position of having to re-buy everything. So like I said, Shop=Closed. 

I’ve actually been donating clothes to various friends and charities for a while now, but last week was the first time we began giving away and/or selling those larger items like swings and highchairs. It took a bit of discussion, making sure that each of us was in agreement that we were doing this. And to be truthful, I thought I’d be a little teary-eyed about the whole thing. But you know what?

It felt marvellous.

Seriously. It was like removing a growth. A large, baby-puke-and-mom’s-tear-stains-covered growth.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve spent a few reflective moment in the past week, thinking about how this “having a baby” stage of my life is now over. It does feel strange to say that I’m done because it feels like I spent so much of my early adulthood building up to that point in my life, you know? Before having children I always (always) thought about how it would feel to be pregnant, to deliver a baby, to hold my newborn and see them for the first time. I wondered what kind of mother I’d be, what personalities my children would have, and what family resemblances they would carry.

I’m going to miss the way I look pregnant.

Ah, to be able to eat whatever I want again ...

And I know this means no more of those magical moments in the hospital when you see them for the first time.

Note Ave's photo was downgraded to a quick cell phone pic. Sucks being the 2nd, doesn't it Ave?

Or those days when they’re just so damned cute you want to bite their little cheeks and inhale all of their squishy baby-ness.

I'm good at manufacturing children with skin as white as snow

But I also know that while I may have looked cute pregnant, I felt like absolute ass most of the time (especially with Avery … man, that kid really gave me the gears). I also recognize that I had two very high-risk deliveries and that, clearly, my body just isn’t cut out for safely producing humans.

I also know that while babies are cute and adorable some of the time, we were lucky enough to be blessed with not one but two very colicky kiddies (one of whom has apparently not yet gotten the message that she’s allowed to stop screaming oh, any day now), and there is no way in hell I’d wish that on my worst enemy.      

The Screamin' Demons

Nor are Jamie or I foolish enough to believe that we’d get lucky with the third. Our babies scream a lot, that’s just the way it is. I like to think they’re developing their lung capacity and will one day be future Olympians. We’re going to be a freakin’ Olympic swimming dynasty.

So yes, our baby days are now almost totally behind us (speaking of which, Ave’s turning one in less than a month. A month!), but we’re ok with it. We absolutely, without question freakin’ adore our children. Love ‘em. Love ‘em to bits. And you know what? Our family feels complete. In a comfortable, no-regrets sort of way, we are whole. We are one entity, enclosed within ourselves, and it feels good.

It feels so, so good.

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