Can I tell you a secret? I want another baby.
When I sit down and have a reality check with myself, I honestly have no desire for another child. Our family is complete. We have four beautiful children. They’re busy, messy, chaotic, and bring so much love and goodness into the world.
Our home and lives are full.
We’ve also reached a really fun stage where everyone can walk and is potty trained. (Woohoo!) It’s the next level of independence! Our activities are starting to become more enjoyable. We still go to plenty of parks, but now I can relax and chat with the other moms instead of following my crawling child around on the toys, hovering to be sure they don’t crawl off some random edge. These days, we play basketball and pickleball together. We eat out as a family without requesting a high chair or booster seat. We don’t have the added chaos that comes with a baby.
Yet, still I feel that nagging ache.
It’s close to my heart as I’m prepping my preschooler for kindergarten next year and realize that, soon, my days will be spent with only a three-year-old for company. She’s strong, independent, and can do it by herself (thank you very much). Each day as she grabs her own bag of cereal or tells me that she’d like her bread toasted and with butter, I’m realizing that she’s not my baby any more.
When it comes down to it, that’s my real issue. It’s not so much that I actually want an addition to my family, but after so many years, my baby days are coming to an abrupt close. I’m mourning their loss.
For the past nine years, I’ve plugged my ears tightly whenever anyone tried to warn me how quickly it would go. I had no doubt they were speaking the truth, but I didn’t want to live my life in anticipation of the end. I knew that one day, I would be standing at this point, saying the same things that mothers have said since the dawn of time: It went too fast. 
While I ache to hold a helpless, snuggly child against my chest, I realize that I’m really just aching for my past babies. I want time to stop, just for a few hours so I can look around and soak it all in. I want to be able to come back to this moment, and others long since past, just to visit for a day. I want to hold all of my babies again for the first time and see their toothy smiles as I make silly faces.
I don’t want another baby. I want my babies again.
I realize that I’m looking behind with rose-colored lenses. In reality, my babies were horrific their first year of life. They didn’t sleep, had upset tummies, cried a lot, and were early teethers. In the moment, babies are a lot. I’m sure you’ve heard it before: the nights are long, but the years are short.
I know there are so many bright moments in my future. My sweet children have their whole exciting lives ahead, and I will be there for every adventure. I thank God every day for their little lives.
