All that she wants...

I'm feeling broody. Really, really broody. I see pictures of newborn babies and I start to well up. When I see a baby out and about, I feel a mixture of sadness and warm fuzziness remembering the birth of my amazing little girl.

It was perfect. Exactly the birth I wanted. Everyone thinks this means I would be MORE likely to want another child; the opposite is in fact true. It could never be as amazing second time around. Something would go wrong, some complication would arise, and the memory of my incredible, perfect birthing experience would be tarnished forever.

Anyway, I digress. Today I am feeling particularly sad about the fact that I will never be pregnant again. We can't afford another child, financially or emotionally. We want to be able to give the child we already have every opportunity we can; these opportunities will be less if we have to be in a position to offer a sibling the same deal. Yes, if I found myself pregnant tomorrow, we would cope. But we don't want to just 'cope'. Our business wouldn't survive 'losing' me for another 6 weeks, let alone 6 months, and given that it looks as though Flo is going to be exceptionally gifted, it seems almost unfair to bring a sibling into the equation.

But I'm good at making babies. My parenting is about the only thing in my life I've ever felt confident about. I loved my body when I was pregnant too, for the first and only time in my whole life, adult or otherwise. I feel made for motherhood. I should've met my husband 10 years earlier, then maybe we'd have a whole tribe of kids by now. But circumstances dictate that we are destined to be a family of three. Most days I love this. We're a tight little team, and the rare days we get to spend all together are fantastic and I feel sure that our 'no more babies' decision is the right thing to do. Then every now and then, days like this come along and I just ache for another baby. I tell myself it's just biology, it'll pass, and it will. But so too will the days that I am able to make babies (probably sooner rather than later, if family history and recent goings-on are anything to go by, but I'll save the gory details of my cycle here I think) and then it will hit me hard. Very hard. Biology sucks.