You make really cute babies, you know. You have great genetics. Motherhood looks good on you. You have a beautiful baby belly - can I touch it? Wow! You're positively glowing. Are you going to have more? I just love your babies.
Your babies. Not mine. I don't have anymore babies.
Yes. That's a grin on my face.
It's been just shy of a year since Geekster had The Big V and ended our baby making spree that spanned more than a decade. (If you can call three births in ten years a 'spree', that is). He did so with no reservations, as he had been ready for a very long time. The Geek felt like he was done having kids after the first gremlin hatched, but knew my seemingly insatiable desire to procreate was as strong, if not stronger, than his will to live. Smart man that he is, he didn't stand in my way of having more.
And he is still breathing.
Over the last few months I've been putting myself through rigorous tests to see if I still feel as "done" as I did last summer. I'm not quite sure why I do this to myself, because my husband has made it abundantly clear that there is no going back. There will be no vasectomy reversal happening any time ever. Not that I've asked him, but he has reminded me now and then; perhaps it's some kind of maintenance program.
Still, the testing continues, and I've come up with some surprising results:
Looking
Testing begins with looking at babies. I like looking at them because they wear cute outfits and get to be chunky without anyone frowning at them. It's a good life, and for that I envy them. Other than the obvious niceties of infants, they're adorable and squishy and very, very small. On the other hand, they sometimes have puke running down their chins and it pools in the creases of their chubby little necks resulting in a cheese-like substance.
Result: Looking at babies does not make me want have more.
Holding
Holding babies brings out the mother in me. They're so warm I could fall asleep. When they whimper my breasts start to ache in that familiar way. They're so fragile and helpless and yet so incredibly beautiful and.... and... smelly? What is that yellow stuff on the baby's back... and on my thigh? Ah. That whimper wasn't because she was hungry.
Result: Holding babies does not make me want to have more.
Listening
Baby babble is one of the sweetest sounds on the planet. Their brains are building vocabulary at an astounding rate, and I find their learning not only fascinating but downright enjoyable. Then they start to cry because they can't tell me what's wrong by using their words. And then I start to cry because they're crying and I can't make them stop.
Result: Listening to babies does not make me want to have more.
Playing
I like to play with babies, especially when they're learning fun games like peek-a-boo and pat-a-cake - basically all the hyphenated ones. They clap their hands together, smile brightly, put their hands on yours, giggle excitedly, pick up a wooden block and proceed to clock you in the side of the head. Ouch.
Result: Playing with babies does not make me want to have more.
Exploring
Watching infants familiarize themselves with new territory is... Oh, who am I kidding? It's not enjoyable at all. It's a mad dash around the house, picking up every little piece of fluff so it doesn't go into a mouth, blocking outlets, locking cabinets, blockading stairs, and then trying to get the baby interested in something that's actually safe to play with, like a toy. It never works. They always find the mystery dog hair under the recliner and you're back to fishing things out of a a small opening with sharp little teeth.
Result: Exploring babies definitely do not make me want to have more.
Having evaluated myself I have come to the following conclusions:
- I enjoyed my infant gremlins very much, most likely because the secretion of oxytocin into my blood stream during breastfeeding made the stress of raising a baby more on par with deciding between brand name and store brand pizza sauce
- I enjoy not being the primary caregiver of other people's babies so that I may appreciate all the joys and wonder of a little human being and none of the unfortunate side-effects of that joy and wonder
- the day I could leave the diaper bag at home felt very much like the freedom if walking out of prison after serving time (Not that I would know firsthand, mind you. That's pure speculation, but I'm sure it feels similar)
- I enjoy the money I'm saving by not ever having to buy pregnancy tests. I couldn't even begin to guess how much we'd have in our retirement savings right now if I hadn't of bought so many
- so far, I have no inclination to adopt, which is the deal I struck with Geekster before he disabled his little friends: "I want you to promise me that we can consider adoption if at any point a desire for a fourth child makes its appearance." I like the idea of adoption very much, I just can't justify spending the $20,000 when I already have three gremlins. That's a lot of coffee, you know
- I have this new thing called "a life", which is not the same as the life I had before where I brought my baby with me everywhere and my boob was always hanging out. I'm in full support of women being able to bring their babies wherever they go so that they can nurse and have a healthy bond. But I've done that three times now, and with my youngest being 2 1/2, I'm discovering the joys of "date nights" and "movies" and "going out before he goes to sleep because his dad can get him to bed without me" type things... It's like there's this whole world out there for people who don't have spit-up all over their shirts. I never knew... I never knew
So keep having those babies, everyone, and make sure to let your friendly neighbourhood Maven have a cuddle and some pat-a-cake time. I have no problem trying to manipulate you into having more for my own selfish desires. I'm nice like that.
I am done. Really, truly done.
It's weird. Good, but weird.
Mostly good.
(Update on the fundraiser: It went GREAT! I don't know how much we made just yet, but the bake sale table was incredibly busy and the dunk tank was seeing a lot of dunking. I spent money I didn't have on yard sale stuff that went 100% to Jacob's family, and Jacob himself even made an appearance with his little brother, mom and dad. A beautiful day for a beautiful family. Damn it, I'm crying again. I really should do something about all these emotions. Is there an "off" switch?)