Four?

I had lunch today with two women, both of whom are pregnant. As pictures of ultrasounds were passed around the table, I was asked if I would go for number four. I laughed and shook my head with an emphatic and resounding “no.”

Later that afternoon, I considered my answer. Two years ago this month, I was ready to go for baby three. I had intense baby fever, brought on by the sudden independence of Brennan turning one and rejecting cuddles in favor of chasing his older brother. The next thing I knew, it was early April 2006, and I was pregnant again. (Combine the month of March - my husband’s birthday month, a bottle (or two) of wine and a little shall we say, ahem, recklessness and well, it really does only take one time. I learned this not once, but twice. Yes, hello two children born in the month of December. )

Fast forward to the present day: now Griffin has adopted the independence of toddlerhood with fervor. He returns for a hug or a cuddle now and again, content to know I am close by him, but he is happiest running with the pack of his busy, noisy older brothers. He plays with Aidan and Brennan as an equal. Not as a baby, but as a boy. My sweet, baby of a little boy. I am always sad when he squirms to get off my lap or wiggles away from my hug, but there is joy in watching him grow and discover his own world.

I miss my boys as babies. I hold all memories of our baby days close. But I am surprised to discover I am content with my life as a mom to three boys, big and little, without yearning for another baby to join the ranks.

I guess I just have to hold my husband at bay and stay away from the wine this March to keep it that way.