I always knew that I wanted more than one child. When people asked me how many children I wanted to have, I would respond with, “No less than three, no more than six.” My husband, on the other hand, was not entirely on board with me when it came to how many children we would be having. He was pretty firm that two children would be his max.
Our daughter arrived in 2012, and we were totally in love! Everything with her seemed to go so easily–the pregnancy, delivery, and she was such a good, happy baby. We were tired and exhausted being new parents, but she made it so easy.
After four years, we decided to try for a second baby. My husband told me he was perfectly happy with just one child, but that just wasn’t going to fly with me. I wanted my daughter to have a sibling. I knew that this would be our last child. I was 34, and talking my husband into a third child would be a total failure.
Then I got pregnant. I’m not kidding when I say that this baby was difficult from the day the test was positive. I was so sick, and it didn’t stop the first trimester, I was sick well into the third trimester. His delivery was even worse–I had developed severe preeclampsia during delivery. The doctor had trouble with my epidural, which then caused a dangerous drop in my blood pressure. My son was born sharing my birthday, and he sealed the deal that he would be our last. I promptly scheduled an appointment to have my tubes tied.
Unfortunately, things didn’t get any easier from there. Joshua was colicky and screamed every night from 8:00 pm – 12:00 am for two months. He also had reflux and barfed all the time, and he never slept.
This brought on so much guilt as a mother. I kept praying for all of this to pass quickly and for him to grow out of it. I felt I didn’t take the time to enjoy him as a baby, although some days there wasn’t much to enjoy. I wished he would grow up and part of me regrets feeling that way. He was my last baby; I would never experience these stages again as a mother, and I wished them away, my heart ached.
As he grew out of phases, he jumped right into others that never seemed to be a problem with my daughter. He eats everything; I’m pretty sure poison control knows my phone number when it lights up. He’s a climber and a runner. You can usually find him trying to climb out of the cart at Target, then screaming when he’s buckled in. He turned two in September and finally started sleeping all night in January.
But, Joshua is my last baby, and I’m 100% guilty of treating him like my last baby. He is a mama’s boy, and I’m clinging to every snuggle and moment rocking him that we have together.