Unless God has some pretty magical plans laid out for me, I'm finished having kids. NO, I'm not finished because we have one of each and are content because of that. I'm totally content for so many other reasons. Sometimes I do start feeling emotional knowing I won't ever have another little baby growing in my belly, wearing the perfect little going home outfit, and learning to do every single thing from me and our little fam bam. No, I won't be seeing any first crawls or steps again, or first little smiles. I won't be seeing Emily teach another little sibling to say all the funny things she's taught Brody or hear her telling on another little brother or sister when they're doing something they know is wrong.
That's right, all of Brody's firsts are all of my lasts...and I'm okay with that. I love seeing him learn and thrive and adapt to different things. I love seeing him grow closer to his big sister and knowing they'll have each other forever. I love and am content seeing him develop his own little personality that's so different from his sister's. I love the stage that Brody is in right now, wanting to cuddle and having his own bedtime routine. Almost every time he does something or says something new he’s reminding me that he’s growing up
One day I'll force myself to get rid of all his bottles, the ones that took sister through her baby years too. That’ll be a rough day for me. I haven’t help on to any of his sleepers for the next baby because I know there is no next baby. Part of me is so happy about that but again, sometimes I miss it. Knowing I won’t ever have life growing inside me is hard to let go of once you’ve experienced it!
I think I’ll always think of Brody as the little defiant goofball he is, always running away from me, doing what he shouldn’t, and being told on by his sister, haha. And I’m ok with that!