I remember when my boys were little, I’d hold them and they would fall right to sleep.  Once asleep they were so peaceful and cute, I wouldn’t want to put them to bed.  It didn’t matter how tired I was, I wanted that moment to last.  And now they are too old to be rocked to sleep.  My daughter, however, hardly ever fell asleep in my arms.  She’s too picky and too stubborn.  I’d try, I rock and hold her for what felt like forever, but she could hold out forever.  Which makes nights like tonight when she feel asleep on me even more precious.  I’d still be holding her, but I accidentally woke her up telling the boys to go to bed.

The plan was that she would be my last.  I really don’t like being pregnant.  Really don’t like it.  Plus, I looked forward to the day I would no longer change diapers.  And life is easier when all your kids can do stuff on their own.  This was the plan and it was going very well.  Clara grew and I didn’t miss having someone little around.  Her first birthday came and went, and I was still good.  I was good for Xavier’s first birthday too, but my husband was at Basic Training, then AIT and then getting ready to deploy.  I knew we’d have more kids and I was down with waiting until he’d actually be around.  But when Austin turned 1, I was anxious to have another.  Waiting until the eighteen month mark my husband and I had agreed upon to start trying was torture.  So, when as Clara got older and I was still okay with three, I thought I was cured from my baby fever.  I had saved a few things in case we decided to adopt, but I started thinking three was really good and finally got rid of nearly everything.  I have a pack and play and booster seat because they are handy when you have visitors.  I also saved things that were special, supposedly for grandchildren, but really because it was just cute and I can’t bear to part with it.  But I happily got rid of most of my baby things.  Clara started to potty train, and I got excited thinking about the trips to Sam’s Club that wouldn’t involve buying diapers.  Yep, family of five was really working well for me.

I didn’t count on the Alaska factor.  I blame this state for every wild thing that I’ve done since arriving.  From getting rid of cable TV, to participating in a race, to applying to be in a reality TV show (which is ironic having rid myself of the ability to watch said TV show).  I blame Alaska for all these things.  And now I blame this state for the resurgence of my biological clock.  Because crazy things are happening.  I look at pregnant women and think how I’d love to be pregnant again.  Am I crazy?  Have I not met myself?  Have I forgotten that I am the woman who does not do pregnancy well? Yet, I am thinking, hey, wouldn’t it be fun to be pregnant again?  I look at little babies and not even the reminder of sleepless nights and years more of diapers can stop the thoughts that I would love to have another babyt.  I really like sleep, but I think for a sweet little person I would give up my hours of uninterrupted sleep.  And are diapers really all that bad?  It’s so bad that I can’t get babies off my mind.  I even have names picked out.  And tonight, holding my princess and thinking about how fast she’s growing, I’m not ready for her to be my last baby.

So now I have to decide what to do about this.  Do I look at my husband and bat my eyelashes and convince him he can go through the baby stage again?  Do I start trying to have control over my thoughts and get over it?  Do I look at things logicaly and say it doesn’t matter what I think now, with an upcoming deployment it’s not like anything’s happening for the next year?  I don’t know.  I don’t know where I am.  So I am praying about it. A lot.  I’ve learned His plans are better than mine, so if His plan is more than three I’m in.  And if His plan is the three I have, I’m all in there too.