Done??



My mom with all of my babies at the hospital.

Most commonly asked question after you give birth to a baby girl with two little boys as her big brothers, “so are you done?” and my commonly replied answer when asked this question, “yes!” But now, I have no idea.
Ali’s pregnancy was the hardest out of all of my children. Not only did it include the typical, uncomfortable pregnancy symptoms but also, a visit to the ER because of the severity of the morning sickness one wonderful, lovely night, prescription drugs for morning sickness just so I could get through the other days and my personal favorite, the onset of pre-partum depression, which included degrading, debilitating and suicidal thoughts.


Baby Ali at 13 weeks gestational.



Recovery after Ali’s birth was rough too; causing me to cry in pain even while on 10mg of Oxycodone on top of other pain relievers.

So who in their right mind would ever want to go through such horrible pain again?!? (I could write paragraphs on the definition of this kind of person but I think it would suffice to simply say): A mother.

I can’t say with certainty if Ali will be our last child or second to last. We’ll see where we stand in a year or should I say we’ll see where I stand in a year as the hubs has remarked that he doesn’t want me to have any regrets so if I want another baby then we’ll have another baby. He’s a sweetheart and I love him dearly but damn, now I’m responsible for this huge decision.



Me and my Aidy (Xmas 2010).



I can think of a million reasons to not have another baby but I, also, know even a fraction of the love I feel for one of my children can completely override all of that.

So are we done?

Who friggin’ knows . . .

Probably not.

Co-sleeping.

Baby Aiden, about a month old.

Since the minute our first child, Aiden, was born on March 7^th 2008 we intentionally decided to forgo use of birth control. In other words, for the last four years I have been pregnant or trying to be pregnant. Trust me, it’s been a rough few years on me, my body, my husband and any sort of (freaky [oh, mom, I hope you skipped this sentence]) sex life.

Nevertheless, we now have three children three and under. Before you draw the usual conclusion that we’re frickin’ crazy (because we’re not) or we just weren’t listening during sex ed. (we definitely were and I think it’s probable that Jarod and I may have paid the most attention in school that day than we ever have in our lives), I wanted our children to grow up close in age so they’d always have someone to play with and with the hope that they’d grow up together and grow in love and closeness all their lives.



Me and baby Tristen on his birth day.

Which brings me to co-sleeping, having three children so close in age we had to make rules to abide by (or we really would become frickin’ crazy) and one of those rules concerned sleeping habits. Aiden and Tristen never slept in our bed aside from the occasional sickness. As newborns they usually slept in a bassinet next to our bed but never in it. Not only do Jarod and I love our sleep but I was always prepping Aiden and Tristen for the next kid to come along because routinely waking up to various babies in the middle of the night sounds like hell to me.

Then came our last and only girl, baby Ali. She’s much more needier than the boys were (probably a preface to what’s to come in the future, right?). She sleeps great during the day but sleeps horrible at night. So last night Jarod took her out of her bassinet and placed her in our bed and basically remarked that, “I'm tired.” My sleep-deprived, groggy external reaction was something like, “uhh, ok” but inside I think I may have been beaming.

Jarod with his little girl, baby Ali.

We make compromises to everything in life and by giving my children siblings so close in age I’ve lost out on rocking them to sleep. In exchange for giving them the gift of sleeping well and knowing how to be independent, I’ve lost excuses to hold them and moments where they "needed" their mommy. I know I haven’t damaged their lives so inconceivably that they’ll need counseling but I know too well how time perpetuates forward even when you try with dear life to hold onto a single moment.

Thus, with our last child (whom I already know full-well is going to be spoiled; have you seen the way her daddy looks at her?!) I don’t mind if she’s a little bit more difficult, if she needs to be rocked to sleep or wants to be held incessantly just because she needs it.

Because in all honest, I think I need it even more.

Perfect.



Baby Ali, one week old.



Life is pretty damn, dare I say, perfect. It’s so perfect that usually overly-abundant (and annoyingly) optimistic me cautiously awaits for something, at the very least something tiny, to go wrong. But nothing has and believe me, I’m really not complaining. Life’s just really, really good.

Baby Ali turned one week today and everyday she becomes more and more gorgeous. Suffice to say, Jarod’s absolutely terrified. He mentioned how one day the boys are going to have girlfriends and I laughed because he didn’t even realize that subconsciously he already denies the fact that Ali will (one day) have a boyfriend. I brought it to his attention and he laughed but then remarked that she never will have a boyfriend. Umm, okay . . . psycho :)



With three kids, three and under, you
take what you can get when it comes
to pictures :)



The boys have been amazing with her. Other than Aiden’s initial comments about putting her back in the box (aka the hospital bassinet), they’re in love with her. Tristen’s the most obsessed with her. He loves peeking over the playpen/ bassinet and looking at her, giving her kisses and asking to be picked up (constantly) just to get a better look at his little sister. Aiden will inform me when she’s crying, remind me to feed her and will help put the binky in her mouth. They’re amazing and I hope (but I think Jarod hopes more) that they’ll always feel this love and need to protect her, especially from the population of the world with said male genitalia.



The very beginning <3



Also, seven years, one week and one day ago Jarod and I went on our first date. He picked me up in his black spray-painted MR2, handed me a bouquet of flowers, opened my door, took me to see The Notebook (which I’m thankful was the second-time I saw that movie because the first time I was an emotional-mess and we more than likely would not be where we are today if he had took me to see it for the first time; I‘m more than certain I would be considered, “thaaat girl“), ate some grub at Denny’s and basically, stole my heart.

Like I said life’s pretty perfect. Seven years feels amazing. We know each other so well and work so well together. Butterflies and falling in love is fun but nothing beats this kind of love.

Life is pretty damn perfect.