Tiny Socks

I am a little apprehensive to write this post. The last time I started to write something like this I ended up finding out I was pregnant with my third. Despite what this post may sound like I am not currently planning on expanding the family.

  

During the past week I finally got around to sorting out little Misses clothes. I have pulled out all the little 000 singlets and the tiny socks, hand knitted cardigans and bonnets and packed them all away. Something found their way to the bin or the bag for charity but on the most part they have been packed away. Packed away with a rather large question mark looming over them. Will there ever be another baby for me to dress them in?

Will my belly ever be filled with a baby again?

Will I be woken in the night by the tiny cries of a new born?

Will I be staring into the eyes of a new born baby knowing that I have grown this tiny  babe?

I was always a girl that wanted to have babies. Even in primary school I remember day dreaming about being a mother, how I would pack school lunches and make breakfast for my kids. Motherhood was something I grew up expecting.

Then at 22 years old I was told it was extremely unlikely that I could ever have children I was crushed. I felt that my whole future was unclear and unmanageable. I grieved for babies that had never been conceived. So while I hadn't planned on getting pregnant when I was 24 and single I also left blessed that I had a chance to be a mother. 

Writing that its hard to believe that it is pretty much ten years since I was living in London drinking like a fish and smoking like a chimney ranting I'm never going to be able to have kids in my sad drunken stupper. Back then there is NO WAY I would have predicted that fast forward ten years I would be the mother of three amazing children, the wife to a man I meet in year 7 living in the middle of suburbia working as a teacher.

Despite being a planner I have never really planned out the really big stuff in my life. I have three children and only ever planned one of them. But am so delighted that they all have found their way into our lives.

I know ever logical reason why I should be saying that I have had enough babies. The money, the time, the stress, the work, the fact that I want to do other things with my life other than being a mum. The toll it has had on my body, the weight gain, the morning sickness, varicose veins and heart burn. But there is something about those tiny socks that just can't seem to let me say we are absolutely and defiantly done having babies.

 

Room for one more?