To snip or not to snip...

For the first time in 4 years and 9 months I am not pregnant and I am not breast-feeding.

I was sure after Macy was born that I was done having kids. I didn't want to go through any more progesterone poisoning, labor pains, middle of the night feeds, two-hourly feeds during the day, two-hourly diaper changes, having to be the one to get up to feed the baby first thing in the morning, choosing a name, postpartum depression, hormone swings, any of it. I was looking forward to getting to the stage of life where I had three young ladies who could sit and eat a meal without me having to get up, so that in effect I was going to have my first hot meal with children in four years. I was looking forward to having all three kids in forward facing car seats. I was enjoying the fact that they are all old enough to move around by themselves, to come to me if they need something, that they all play really nicely together, and that life can only get easier now.

But then we went for the vasectomy consultation, and in the same week Macy stopped breast-feeding, and all of a sudden my hormones are freaking out, and I'm freaking out, and I'm thinking, "Life is great. I could totally have another baby." I all of a sudden think that maybe I'm not ready to leave the baby phase yet. I love Macy's age. From about 6 months to 18 months is the most irresistibly cute age, in my opinion. Sure, all my girls are still cute, but that age is when they are smiling, giggling and interacting but not yet able to be naughty. Fantastic. Am I really ready to see the back of that? I'm remembering now how much I love being pregnant. Apart from the first three months, I love the anticipation, I love telling people and seeing their reaction, I love feeling the baby move, I love the way my body looks when by belly is so big I don't even notice how big my ass has gotten. I love the midwife visits and counting time in weeks and appointments. I even love people touching my belly. I love actually giving birth and seeing the purple, swollen, mess of a baby that only a mother could think is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. I love the adrenaline rush I get and that lasts for about six weeks after birth. And I love watching that baby become (thus far) a little girl. Ooh, I just love every bit of it. At the moment. I remember very clearly saying to people in the last six months, "I am so ready to be done with the baby phase. I really need to keep a journal to remind myself of how hard this has been this time so that I can't say 'it wasn't that bad.' a few months down the line." But I didn't keep the journal, and now I really can't for the life of me remember a single part of it that I didn't love and wouldn't be ready to do again.

I just don't know what to do! I'm not good at indecision. Mr.t pointed out that Tim and I just make decisions and don't look back. And he's right. That's what we do. So this feels really weird to not know the way forward.