One and ... done

There's a baby boom going on in my little world. In the last few months close friends, relatives, colleagues and coworkers have welcomed little bundles of joy into the world. And a couple more are expecting. I've enjoyed seeing the baby pictures and buying the baby gifts (especially for the little girls).

Couple that with the woman in the news who recently gave birth to the 8 babies and the fact that Preston is two years old and I get the "little brother or sister" question more than ever and I basically have baby on the brain!

So, if you haven't asked and were wondering ... the answer is, "Nope, I'm done." I guess I didn't get the gene that the woman with the 14 kids got -- I've never had the desire to have lots of kids. In fact, for years and years I was convinced that I'd be fine without even one. And then Preston came along. Those first few months were very difficult. I loved Preston more than I ever thought possible, but I also missed my Mom so much that it hurt. My grandmother made plans to come and stay with me and Mark after Preston was born, but she had to go in the hospital just before and her health continued to decline after that. So, most of the time I was alone because Mark was working third shift and quite frankly overwhelmed. I had family members and good friends who were a big help, but I couldn't help but envy girlfriends who had their mothers there for them during such a special time. Now with both my Mom and grandmother gone, I can't imagine having another child.

I also can't imagine having another child because I wouldn't be able to love him or her the way I do Preston. I used to always ask my grandmother how she did that with nine children. And she always said that she loved them all the same. While I would never call her a liar to her face, I didn't buy that for one minute. It was clear to me who her favorites were. She may have loved them all the same, but she sure "liked" them differently. To me, it would be like cheating. Thank goodness other women don't have this flawed way of thinking because there would be a whole bunch of only children in this world.

Then there's the age thing. I will be 39 next month, which means I would have to get started really quickly to have another by age 40. Not that there's anything wrong with that, women do it all the time. But my hair is already graying and I don't want my child to have to tell his friends that I'm his Mom and not his Nana.

I must confess that I do get a tiny little pang every time I see a baby girl. I always thought I'd be buying lots of pink stuff and eventually Mommy and me outfits. And even though I ended up with a baby room with a jungle theme instead of pink and brown ladybugs -- I'm good. One day I'll convince a friend or family member to use that pattern. In the meantime, I'll continue to enjoy the trials and jubilation of raising a little boy and continue to give this response to those who think we should have another, "Why mess with perfection."