It’s the age old question of every Mother. How do you know when your family is complete. Building a family can be so confusing. How many children is enough. Can we afford more. Do I want another? What if I get clucky again?
Long time readers will know, I have four children. Celine at 8 years old, Blake at 4 years old, Danielle at 3 years old and Isabella at almost 9 months. For most people, one or two children are enough. For me, I knew I wanted four. I was raised as one of four children. So was my husband. So four children seemed like a good goal to go for.
When I was pregnant with my last child, Isabella, I knew for certain that my family was complete. There was no way that I could do this again. My pregnancy with Isabella, while the most healthiest pregnancy I have had (I had toxemia with Celine, gestational diabetes with both Blake and Danielle, and SPD with Blake); it was also the hardest pregnancy I went through.
I put on more weight with Isabella (weight I am still trying to get rid of) than I did with Blake and Danielle (although not as much as I did with Celine). I was not as active as I was during Blake’s and Danielle’s pregnancies (how is that for irony). I didn’t even have as much morning sickness as I usually do (usually all day, all pregnancy, until birth). That wasn’t where I struggled most with Isabella’s pregnancy. It was mentally, that I struggled the most.
My pregnancy with Isabella took most of it’s toll on me mentally. I’m not actually sure how or why. As I said, my pregnancy with her wasn’t taxing in any way. Maybe it was just the reality of actually having four children. Maybe it was trying to cope with a preschooler and a toddler constantly waking in the night and having to prepare for a newborn doing so as well. Maybe it was trying my head around the logistics of four children and knowing that when my oldest hits High School my youngest will only just be starting Primary (actually I’m still wrapping my head around that one).
My husband sometimes jokes about having a fifth and even a sixth child. Those jokes make me shudder. It’s not that I don’t love children or admire large families. All I know is that once I held Isabella in my arms within minutes of giving birth to her, my first thoughts was “no more, I’m done”. A recent contraceptive failure (I missed my depo injection by 5 weeks in April) confirmed that thought for me when I freaked out about possibly being pregnant again. I wasn’t, thank goodness, but it certainly brought home to me that I was definitely done with my family, regardless of my husband’s jokes.
Are you done with your family? How did you know?