While I was vacuuming our gargantuan living room today (a later addition to this old, patchwork-quilt-of-a-house, larger than the size of our first apartment), I was able to think of some good things about being done with having babies.
- Not having to be pregnant again. This is two-thirds good news, as I only truly enjoy the second trimester anyway.
- Along the same lines . . . suffering less wear and tear on my body. This last time around, I remember feeling like I was recovering from pregnancy, not childbirth. One would think it would only get rougher.
- Less expense in our yearly flight to Seattle to visit my family. And less insanity en route.
- Not having to reconfigure how to share myself with four children. Everyone wants to sleep with me. Everyone wants to snuggle with me at the same time. But there is only one of me and I only have two arms. (Though Diego has been snuggling with my LEGS at night. He wakes up on his own and then comes and snuggles in at the bottom of the bed. I actually like it, unless I am so cramped that I am unable to move.)
- Done with diapers and night-nursing forever 'n ever. Yes. That sounds nice.
- Not having to come up with another name. Weird I know, but I honestly consider it an unpleasant task. It is just too hard.
We shall see. Squeeze is 100% ready to be done. I am probably 75% ready to be done. I think. Some days I am okay with the thought, but I mostly feel mournful and incredulous.
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