Saying Goodbye to Baby No. 4: "I'll Never Be Pregnant Again"

For years, our reader Anna, 34, figured she might still have a fourth baby someday. Now her three kids are big enough (between 7 and 10) that she knows daydreaming about a baby is lovely, but the truth has been settled for a while: she will never be pregnant again. Her family is complete. This is her goodbye to a feeling that has been part of her life for years.

My purse buzzes. I'm on my way from one appointment to the next. I dig my phone out of my way-too-full bag. A notification. I tap it. A photo pops up. It's a positive pregnancy test… A moment like that cuts like a warm knife through cold butter. It splits time into a before and an after. Especially when the photo is followed by the words, "You're going to be a godmother."

I could cry. A new person. How wonderful! And there it is again, that feeling of not knowing: what's coming, who's coming? How will the pregnancy go, how will the birth go, what will the baby be like? Curiosity, anticipation. Butterflies, excitement. The world just keeps turning when news like this arrives, but inside us something earth-shattering is happening. A baby!

I'm so glad I'm becoming a godmother, because it lets me live all of that again, at least a little. Because in my life as a mom of three, one thing is clear: I will never be pregnant again.

Did I really just write that sentence? The finality of it is still hard for me. There's a battle going on inside me between reality and fantasy. Reality says: You have three great kids, and your last pregnancy was eight years ago. You're not getting any younger. The kids are past the hardest stretch, and you finally have more freedom again.

Fantasy says: You have three great kids, so a fourth would be great too. You're still young (doesn't everyone feel that way, always?). The kids don't need you physically as much anymore, so why not pour all that freed-up energy into a fascinating new little person? The big ones would surely help. They're the ones who keep asking, why don't we get another baby?

There! There's that fluttering in my belly, and my hand goes to it protectively, like it's on autopilot. Oh, right. No wiggling baby in there, just digestion. The days of having a baby in my belly are over. It's just that I had my kids young, in my mid-20s. A lot of my friends are only having babies now, so maybe that's why I think about this so much?

Another baby: Do I or don't I?

When I go on a business trip and get to explore a new city, I think: I'm going to freeze this wonderfully free moment and thaw it out the next time I feel weak and think, I'd love one more baby. Then there are the times when, on the first day of my period, I calculate what day a baby would arrive if I got pregnant by accident this cycle. Only it's not going to happen. For my husband, it's settled. For me, really, it is too…

I'm getting a taste of the freedom that's coming back, a taste of the Anna I was before kids, who loved to dance, who spent lots of time with friends, who had hobbies and worked a lot and loved it. And my mom heart says: all of that plus a baby, that would be perfect. But then reason chimes in and says: Before my first child, I also thought everything would just go on as usual, with one smiling baby added.

In reality, it looked very different. First came the awful nausea and exhaustion. Then two C-sections, and the thought of opening that scar again scares me. After the births came the crying spells every single evening, around six hours, for half a year. The gas. The sleepless nights, the feeling that everything is sticking to you. The baby is stuck to you, your hair is stuck to your head, life feels glued in place, because day and night blur together.

"Everything is good just the way it is"

And then I look at our three kids, hug them, help them with their homework, drive them to their activities, and go to bed at night knowing I get to sleep through the night and head off the next morning to a job I truly love. And I think: everything is good just the way it is. I have the time to be there for them in their daily lives. Most of all, I have the patience to do it (most of the time, anyway).

It feels whole. We're complete! Even if that longing is still sleeping somewhere inside me. I take it seriously. It shows me that my heart is big enough to take in more people. I've taken on a mentorship with a refugee boy, and it's incredibly fulfilling. We've been seeing each other regularly for over a year, and every time we get closer. I'm also thinking about doing more for myself. There's still that dream from my childhood, a horse of my own. Who knows, maybe I'll make it happen someday, if more room opens up alongside work, my relationship, friends, kids, and the household?!

And then there's my godchild. The pregnancy went well, the birth was painful, and the baby is fantastic. The little one gurgles, babbles, smiles and learns. It makes me happy to be this close to a baby without carrying the responsibility myself. It's really what I wished for: everything in my life stays the same, but there's a brand-new little person. So now I'll just go see the baby as often as I can, whenever I want to breathe in that baby smell and still get a full night's sleep.