3 babies. I never even thought I’d have one. Much less three boys. My 3rd is due in a little

Over a week.

I hate being pregnant. I’m fat. My body hurts. I’m tired. I puke. I waddle like some kinda confused drunk penguin. I don’t sleep. I count kicks. And everything from my boobs to my knees hurt.

But I love being a mommy.

I love books. And superheroes. And goodnight snuggles. And can I wear a bow tie to school? And nerf guns and the yelling of excitement when my toddler sees a choochoo in our town. I love Batman capes and ninja turtle light up shoes. And dancing Elmo toys. And all the things that being a mommy of three wild and wonderful boys brings.

But this morning after spending yesterday in labor and delivery wondering if today was the day, I’m exhausted. And my husband has two days off. Somehow, he caught my nesting mode. He’s pulled the bassinet from the basement. He’s washing baby blankets. And putting together the baby swing. He’s lysoled things and sorted through things. And he’s taken our oldest boys to big lots to buy storage bins and a bookshelf...two things I’ve wanted for a while.

But then he was like are we gonna keep this stuff once our third outgrows it? Because I think 3 is a good number.

And my gut hurt. I mean I know that 3 is a great number. I know that I’m probably done. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it. But legitimately saying out loud we won’t need this baby swing, crib, newborn pjs after this. I’m too close to birth. Too hormonal. I want to cry.

He said I’m not saying we have to be done. But I don’t want another one for at least 5 years. Yeah, sorry. I can’t do that. I’ll be too old. And honestly, I’m not entirely sure my body could do it again any older.

He said there isn’t a guarantee we’d get a girl. I know this. I love my boys. I’m not angry I don’t have a girl. After three boys where would I even put a little girl in our three bedroom house?

But to be done. My last baby. My last nursery. My last little snuggler. Is our family done growing? After my last son, we knew we weren’t done. But we’ve always been on the same page.

Maybe it’s the hormones. But somehow the idea. The real idea that in a week I will have my last first snuggle with my last baby.

I can’t seem to handle that thought right now.