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When your last baby is your LAST baby

​I was holding my fresh, not even day old baby, when they came in to take me for my operation.

I was getting my tubes tied.

I was so overwhelmed. This beautiful little baby, with the fresh baby smell. This peaceful little cuddly, tiny thing, was my last.
I will never get to do this again.

From here on out, everything I get to experience with this one, will never happen again.

I had to hold back tears the whole way down do the operating room, leaving my baby with her dad. I kept thinking:
This will be the last first smile

first laugh

first words

the last tiny newborn clothes I will ever have to pick out

And for the first week after I had the procedure done, I would cry thinking about it. I would just hold her and cry.
The whole first week home holding my perfect little, peaceful baby. I almost had time to regret it…

and then it all set in.

I had just spend most of my year pregnant.

I was getting little to no sleep.

My 5 year old started Kindergarten and needed me. She wanted time with me.

 My husband needed me. 

The house needed cleaned. The laundry never stopped. Someone had to cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner…and that person was me. In a few short weeks I would have to manage all of this, and go back to my full time job.

This was my deciding factor.

My family deserves me. All of me. Not only physically, but mentally. 

I, honest to god, could not be a good mom to more children, I just couldn’t.

Some moms are great at managing the chaos. They could have 100 kids and still have it together….

I am not that person. 

Not to mention the cost of having more kids. Bigger vehicles, bigger house. And diapers, holy shit. The damn things are so expensive you need to take out a second mortgage just to afford them anyway.

Call me selfish, but I need to get back to myself. I need to find me again.

We struggled getting pregnant with both girls. (hence the almost 6 years age difference), So for most of the time we have been together we have worried about trying to get pregnant. And then when I was pregnant, we worried about the baby. Then when I had the girls, we worried about them some more. 

So, my last baby was my last…but just because she is it, doesn’t mean we wont have a lot more firsts.

First (of many) family vacations.
Our First plane ride.
The First road trip.
First fishing trip.
First goat (yea, i want goats)

Rather it be that your first was your last, or your 10th was your last. When you know you are done, you just know. 
And just because those little baby days are over, doesn’t mean its the end. Honestly, my heart is still open to adoption, and someday when we feel like it is time, we may just do that. If adoption is not in the cards, I know the fun is not over for us.

So, what about you guys? How many did you stop with? When did you know that your last was your last?