Done

I just found out a friend of mine is pregnant after trying for two years. YAY!  So, I pulled out all my old maternity clothes and went through them to give to her. 

My first thought was that I can't believe I wore that much pink and floral prints.

My second was how happy I am to be done with that part of my life now. 

Surprised as I was by both thoughts, I have to say that it was damn near shocking to feel, not nostalgia, or even a little bit of disappointment that my child bearing days are over, but I felt pure, unmitigated joy.  Happiness, elation, a thrilling sense of moving on to the next level of my life. 

It's not that I hated pregnancy.  In fact, despite all the bitching I did during both pregnancies, I rather liked being pregnant.  It felt like I was a living, breathing miracle.  A life bearing Goddess.  It felt magical and exciting though more than a little bit nauseating.  Being pregnant was something I literally dreamed of for most of my life. I wasn't the girl playing princess or planning a future wedding to Prince Charming. I was the kid waddling around with a pillow under my shirt and practicing Lamaze breathing. 

I wondered if I'd ever get to the place where I was sure I didn't want to have any more children.  I've said all along that we're done at two, and it's true, we're not having more kids, but there was a little inkling, just a little feeling at the back of my head that wondered if maybe I felt a little bit sad about that.  To NEVER surprise John with a positive pregnancy test again.  To NEVER see the flashing heart beat dot on ultrasound for the first time again.  To NEVER again feel the baby kicking me from the inside.  To never hear John tell me with happy tears in his eyes "We had a BABY!" while hearing our son's first cries.  I really thought I'd feel sad about that.  But, I don't.  I've had those experiences and they were amazing and unforgettable.  I don't need more.  I was thrilled and lucky to give birth to both of my boys.  I'm good.