Being done

Lately I've spent a lot of time thinking about being "done." Not having more children via my body, anyway. It's a bittersweet thing. My experiences with being pregnant rank right up there with having a root canal without anesthetic or a nine month flu. I would probably chose either one over pregnancy. I have hyperemesis (excessive vomiting) for the endurance of the nine months. It's like the pregnancy test shows two lines and within a week I'm huggin' the porcelain throne. I used to laugh because people would tell me how much I glowed, and if I was feeling saucy I'd tell them it was from my multiple spa facials each day - the spray from the flushing toilet would give me that special something. LOL I even had the pleasure of vomiting both times all the way through labor... but within one hour of the baby being born, *poof* the nausea and vomiting disappear. The sores that I on my gums would heal up over night, coffee didn't taste like metal, and I had an appetite again. I did not have a good time being pregnant. Period.

I don't begrudge my girlfriends who have breezy nine-month experiences. I think that's great. Honestly I wouldn't wish my pregnancies on anyone.

But being "done"... it makes me strain to hear God's voice. I don't want to cut things off (no pun intended) if He desires me to bear another baby. The two children I have now were a result of His impression on my heart. I knew without a doubt when He asked me to become a mom. And two kids makes sense. But a third? I don't think so, I don't feel so, but my feelings in regards to childbearing cannot be trusted. We approach a date that will put a stop to the mechanical chances of more babies, but is this His will?

I sat in the attic going through baby clothes the other day. Sorting, folding, remembering. And I was sad. The emotion caught me off guard. I think it's more related to the sadness of time passing. Of the babies growing, and recognizing that those moments are gone. Written. Recorded. And that's okay. There seems to be a part of mothering that sighs and strokes the past like a soft blanket. I think I understand the ethos of the word "pondering" now that my little ones are growing and changing.

More than anything I want to be obedient. Joyful and obedient.

I need to go. The sitter is here so I can go run errands. more on this later, I'm sure.