The Harbor of Retirement

Lately, I have been getting a lot of the same question:

"So, when are you going to have another baby!?"

Um...lest we forget folks.  That just happened.

Let's just put it this way;

My maternity clothes have been stowed in a box under our bed with a steel padlock and a warning sign duct taped to the top:

"Should you need anything in this box, a catastrophic failure has occurred; someone owes you a refund."

I also had Henry swallow the key, and there is no way I'm fishing around in his diaper to get it back.

That ship has sailed.

By 'that ship' I mean my uterus.  It has sailed into the Harbor of Retirement.

It is sipping a cocktail and loving life.

God has blessed Michael and I with two healthy beauties and there is nothing in the world for which I am more thankful.

Getting knocked up again would only be for selfish reasons:

1.  I love attention.  Pregos get lots and lots of attention.  Especially when you get really huge and disfigured. 

(Me...love attention.  I know you're shocked.)

2.  I will never again be able to refer to myself as a "Sacred Vessel."

As in:

Me:   "Michael, will you go upstairs and get me the box of Cheese Its, pleeeeeeeeeease."
Michael:  "You have legs, why can't you get it?"
Me:  "Can't you see.  I am a Sacred Vessel.  I need to rest."

3.  You get to wear stretchy pants every damn day.

There is no way to feel fat in maternity jeans.  They are a gift from God, and probably the only reason women get pregnant in the first place.

Don't be fooled; it's not for the baby at the end. 

It's nine months of stretchy pants.

For real.

4.  You get tons of gifts.

So, I know they aren't technically for me, but that's not the point.

Opening presents is awesome. 

Even someone else's presents.

5.  People dote on you. 

"Oh let me get that for you."
"Don't bend down and pick that up!"
"Sit, let me stand."
"Don't push that radiant warmer, let me get it."

Now, you have to put up a token amount of resistance, just so you don't look like an asshole, but it is awesome to have people want to help you all the time.

You feel super special.

Like Kate Middleton.

You get to feel like a fat faced, ugly version of Kate Middleton.

Which is still awesome.

6.  You get to blame your fat on someone else.

All you have to say is, "Geez.  The baby is hungry today!!!"

"I can't believe the baby wants four cupcakes and an entire bag of Hot Buffalo Wing Pretzel Pieces!"

"Aww. Must be a growth spurt.  How cute."

The only thing having a growth spurt is your ass, but through clever mental trickery you can ignore that fact entirely. 

For 10 whole months. 

7.   If you're not in the mood to have sex you always have a great excuse.

"I think if we do it tonight you might kill the baby."

End of story.

8.  Being in labor is awesome.

See reasons #1 and #5.

**Addendum to #8:

 Labor is awesome until it's not awesome anymore. 

And then it's really not awesome.

9.  And then a baby pops out. 

And it's awesome again.

Surprise.

10.  You get to feel a baby grow inside of you for 10 months.

A real person.

And then you get to meet that person and watch them grow.

You get to see their personality emerge.

And they are the greatest person you have ever met.


Well... shit. 

I really don't want to dig through Henry's diaper.