I sat down to sign the permission slip for my husband to get his vasectomy. A concept I found slightly insane, considering he’s a grown adult who is fully capable of making his own decisions. This wasn’t a field trip to the zoo, it was a medical procedure he fully researched before deciding to get his manhood sliced.
But we’d had countless conversations and spent hours making this decision together, so I happily signed the piece of paper that would rule out the possibility of future babies and sent him on his way.
We had officially had our last baby.
There’s a wide range of emotions associated with knowing you had your last baby and everything is suddenly different. In addition to looking forward to all of the firsts, you are also hyper-aware of all the lasts.
This is the last time you’ll experience that feeling of shock and elation that comes with a positive pregnancy test.
The last time you’ll experience the joy of pregnancy and the acrobats of a tiny human forming inside you.
It’s the last birth story you’ll ever get to write.
The last feeling of a baby being placed on your chest for the first time.
The last first latch.
The last of first outfits, first words, and first steps.
The very last of all those firsts.
I’ve found the finality of knowing I won’t have any more babies also creates a whole new level of patience, adoration, and appreciation for this gift you’ve been given. This chapter of parenting has provided a set of fresh eyes I wish I’d had previously and true longing to slow things down.
So I spend my days making mental notes of all the milestones, planting countless kisses on the sweetest cheeks, enjoying that new baby smell, and embracing all the change.
While it weighs on my heart knowing I’ll never get these moments again, it also fills my heart with joy knowing we have so much to look forward to.
It may be the last of all these firsts, but it’s just the beginning of the uncharted milestones.