On Having Another Baby

O loves babies. He seems to spot them everywhere. He coos at them, pats them, and, when permitted, kisses them. Lately, we've been having lots of conversations like this:

O: "Mama, when are we going to have a newborn baby?"

Me: "Oh, honey, we're never going to have a newborn baby."

O (looking up with pleading eyes): "Pleeease?"

Nothing like a little boy asking for a baby brother or sister to get you thinking... And then I think a little more:

• Remember what it was like to feel sick all day every day for almost 9 months?
• Remember what it was like to do that with a toddler to look after?
  
• Can you really remember the last good night's sleep you had? (I think I can count on two hands how many nights I've slept through over the last almost 5 years)
• I'm 35. Where all the risk factors change.
• In September, E will be in Kindergarten and O will be in nursery school. Would we really want to start all over again.
• We tend to breed very independent, determined children. One was hard. Two is harder...
  
• Right now, we can still one-on-one the kids.
• We've been very, very lucky so far...

No, we will never have another newborn baby... I know that.

I've given everything away as the kids have outgrown it. We are very happy with the family of four that we are. And yet, when I think of having a little baby in the house again, of watching O become a big brother, of nursing, and that tiny baby smell, I get a tiny bit wistful.

And then I say again, more to myself than anyone else: No, we will never have another baby.