At this point in my life, seeing pregnancy announcements brings real pain. Even more difficult are the images of newborns that flood my social media feed—those tiny, chubby faces discovering the world for the first time. I can’t stand bump photos or baby shower invites; I ignore them as if they never existed. I feel a pang of envy for the expectant mothers I encounter daily. I want to pull them aside and say, “Cherish every moment. You don’t realize how special this is.”
Our youngest, a lively 3-year-old, is our last.
There are legitimate reasons—sound, medically backed reasons—why our family is complete. I remember telling my partner, as I first nestled our youngest in bed with us: “Promise me this isn’t the last.” He agreed, but here we are, feeling finished when we never anticipated it.
I adore my older kids. My 7-year-old is now reading and delving into subjects like the Revolutionary War, developing a sense of social justice. My 5-year-old is a cheerful spirit who plays well with both his siblings and still cuddles with me at night. And my 3-year-old, still my baby, insists loudly, “Me tiny!” and clings to his Play-Doh and nursing sessions, as there’s no sibling to compete for my attention. Each of them brings joy into my life, and they are a delight to watch grow.
We can finally leave them for longer periods—enough to enjoy a nice dinner, catch a movie, or attend events without worrying about meltdowns. It’s refreshing. They’re all eating regular food now, and I’ve tucked away the cloth diapers for good.
While I appreciate this newfound freedom, it doesn’t compare to the intoxicating scent of a baby’s neck. With our little ones, we could simply wrap them up and go anywhere. Now, I find myself longing for those moments that I once considered inconvenient.
I miss nursing: the quiet, intimate sessions on the couch, those endless hours that whisk you away into a baby’s world. I miss the adorable cloth diapers, and I really miss my baby carriers, which now sit untouched, gathering dust as I wait for a baby that may never come. Sure, I occasionally carry my 3-year-old, but it’s fleeting and not quite the same.
There are moments when anger creeps in. I hear about others having another baby and think, “Why them and not me?” It frustrates me that we’ve had to make this choice, one that I know is the best for our family. I think dark thoughts—believing I deserve that baby more than someone else does, that my desire for another child should somehow guarantee it.
I’m aware that sharing these feelings might invite judgment from others, but I don’t truly believe I’m the only one capable of nurturing a child. Many women yearn for another baby, and when that wish is out of reach, our minds often wander to dark places.
In my mind, I had a vision for my family. Some people envision two kids, a boy and a girl, while others might want three or just one. I always imagined having five or six kids. My partner and I agreed on this because we love children, embrace the noise, and feel equipped to handle it. But now that dream feels shattered, leaving me with a gnawing sense of loss, a deep sorrow that lingers.
We’re considering adoption, but it doesn’t provide the same certainty as carrying a child. While nothing in life is guaranteed, a pregnancy feels more tangible than the daunting paperwork we face. Questions about our family income, our kids’ health assessments, and even our dog’s vaccinations loom over us. Every response feels like a test, with no sure answers.
Perhaps a baby will find its way to us eventually. But until I see a nursery filled with little things, I’ll carry this heartache, this yearning that sharpens when I see pregnancy announcements, baby pictures, or round bellies. Some may advise me to appreciate the children I already have (and I do), or quote the Rolling Stones about not always getting what you want. But those sentiments only serve to invalidate my feelings. No one else can dictate what my family should look like; only I can.
And I believe we should have at least one more baby.
In the meantime, if you’re also exploring options, you might find helpful insights at one of our other blog posts on home insemination. For those interested in resources, check out this excellent guide on pregnancy and home insemination. If you’re considering an at-home insemination kit, here’s a reliable source that covers everything you need to know.
Summary
The author expresses deep longing for another child, reflecting on the joy of motherhood while grappling with the reality of being unable to have more children. They explore the pain of seeing others become parents and the emotional complexities of wanting a larger family, even as they consider adoption as an alternative.