It’s been two months since my partner and I welcomed our precious new baby into our lives. As our fourth child, this period has allowed me to step out of the newborn haze and adapt to our new family dynamic. Yet, it has also given me room to contemplate the significance of this moment—she is our last child.
To be honest, I always envisioned having three children. I calculated college expenses, pictured juggling three sets of extracurricular activities, and we even chose our home partly for its shared room, meant for siblings of the same gender. Three was the magic number. That is, until our delightful surprise arrived. When we learned about her, my husband took decisive action to ensure no further surprises, meaning we entered this new chapter fully aware that our family was complete.
What’s caught me off guard is the emotional difficulty of accepting this finality. She is the last baby I will feel kicking inside me, the last one whose sweet scent will fill up my nights, and the last tiny bundle I’ll carry in a Moby wrap. I realize she is the final one we will watch evolve from a squishy newborn into an independent person.
Our eldest child is still young, with many firsts yet to come. We have not yet navigated the teenage years, first dates, or even the complexities of first heartbreaks. College and weddings seem light-years away. However, this moment also signifies the conclusion of firsts for me—the last first smile, first words, and first steps.
I had always imagined that reaching this point would fill me with a sense of accomplishment and closure. Instead, I find myself longing for just one more little giggle or smile. If circumstances allowed it—logistically, financially, and health-wise—I would be inclined to continue expanding our family indefinitely. But that’s simply not in the cards for us, so this is it.
With this new addition, we will retire the crib and high chair. Bottles, sippy cups, and tummy time mats will be stored away for good. She’ll be the last to ride in a stroller, the last requiring a car seat, and the last to head off to school. This little one is ushering us into a significant transition in our lives, a change that will be profound as she grows.
Eventually, we will experience a life without diapers. A day will come when everyone can put on their shoes and get into the car independently. There will be a time when all the children are in school, and ultimately, a period when they won’t need us as much anymore.
In my mind, I know that this decision is right for our family, but my heart is struggling to accept it. Here I am, shedding tears over what feels like a loss. It’s bittersweet; while we are at the beginning of her life, we are also marking an end. Her firsts will be my lasts, and the conclusion of such a beautiful chapter leaves me feeling melancholic.
If you’re interested in exploring more about the journey of parenthood, especially in the context of home insemination, check out our article on the home insemination kit. For insights on managing infertility, this resource is invaluable. You may also find Emerson’s perspective on seasonal living helpful, as discussed in this meditation.
In summary, welcoming my final child has stirred unexpected emotions of sadness as I confront the end of certain experiences while also beginning a new chapter of parenthood.