So this weekend was my friend’s baby shower. I’m super excited for her and her too-cute hubby … they’re having their first bebe. And she’s having a boy, which I can TOTALLY relate to, and I can’t wait to sniff him and cuddle him and squeeze his cheeks and lick his toes.
This is how much I love babies. I even want to change his diapers and burp him and allow him to puke in my hair.
Yes. That much.
When I had put off the trip to Babies R Us long enough and had very little time left before the partay, I hit the road on a mission to buy as much adorable baby stuff as I could find (well, afford). As I pulled into the parking lot, the weirdest thing happened. I felt my heart rate increase a little. I felt myself taking a deep breath and then exhaling extra slowly.
Then I walked in the store.
And I swear I about started lactating the minute I stepped into that hell hole.
IT WAS THAT BAD.
Now to explain. Most of you know I have three bratty adorable kids who are the death of me my world. But only some of you know I am crazy enough TO WISH I COULD HAVE ONE MORE.
Yeah. I am that nuts.
I love me some babies. I love kids. I love MY KIDS. I admit it. Even though they kill me and leave me sweaty and pissed off most the time, I LOVE THEM TO DEATH. I sniff them while they sleep and cry when they are gone. I tear up at baseball game awards parties and when they step on the bus for the first time each year.
But this trip to Babies R Us threw me up against a wall and I was not prepared for that.
EVERYONE in that place was prego or had a newborn. I was just the girl who LOOKS prego and isn’t. I was the one walking around in a baby-powder-induced haze. Everything smelled like diapers and Desitin to me all of a sudden and I could feel my head spinning.
It was then that it hit me.
There will be no more babies in my future. That was all of a sudden very apparent to me.
I am that crazy girl who LOVES being pregnant. I love the feeling of a big, fat baby boy rolling around inside me. I love the entire world that is pregnancy. (Well, except those first 12 weeks where I puke a lot.)
I think this hit me hard because hubby man had just told me on Friday that he called the insurance company to find out if a vasectomy would be covered. Ouch. Reality. Setting in. Not pretty.
I know we are blessed with having three awesome, healthy kids. I know that we are getting older. I know all this. But still. It bums me out.
Thank God I still have young friends and sisters who can crank out some kids I can rent once in a while.