Reminding myself of the early days

Today a friend of mine needed someone to watch her 4-month-old son for the afternoon. I was happy to do it because he is a cute little guy and I love to hold babies, especially when they still have that baby smell. God, I miss the baby smell with mine.

I had a nice time taking care of him, but I told my husband that although sometimes I want another baby, I generally think we’re finished. My kids are five and two. My youngest is starting to show an interest in the potty (”I poop in toilet Mom? Peeeeze?”), she can use words to tell me when something is wrong or hurts, my oldest is reading, and we’re moving forward. Every time I pack away a shirt or pair of pants that no longer fit, setting them aside for charity donations, I take a step further away from the newborn days.

The thing is, I don’t know if I can imagine starting over. I know people do it all the time; people go years and years without a new baby and suddenly they have one and it’s been maybe a decade since they had to do the newborn shuffle. Still, I can’t imagine re-starting the sleepless nights, the endless diapers, the round-the-clock feedings, the post-partum hormones, the struggle to learn the different meanings of each cry… It’s so much work. Parenting is always a lot of work, that never ends, but newborns are just physically exhausting. Sometimes I am so tired, partly because I tend to finish up my work late at night, get to bed way too late, and get woken up early in the morning, but no matter what, I am never as tired as I was in those early months with a new baby.

I love babies, and I think I will always get a little ache in my ovaries when I see cute little newborns, but I’m ready to let go of that era and keep going forward with the two kids I already have.