My Favorite Time of Day

A while ago, I was talking with someone (don't even remember who) about when you know you are done having babies. This woman told me she thought it was when you could see or hold someone else's baby without that longing feeling to have your own tiny baby again.

I know that is not how I will know I am finished. I know a lot of women see babies and want to hold, cuddle, count fingers and toes, look at tiny feet, and play with them. I am not one of those women. When I see someone with a baby, I don't have the desire to take their baby and snuggle with them. I think about the situation rationally and determine if she needs help and if I am in the position to help her. If I take her baby, it is service, not a great desire to hold that baby.

Before I had my own children, I worried that I wouldn't have that overwhelming love for my babies, either. But, for me, my own babies are so different from anyone else's babies. I love my babies so much. I love to hold them. I love to snuggle with them. I love to touch their little feet and count their chubby fingers. I adore my babies.

Some of my most cherished memories are of the time I have spent holding my babies close as I nurse them, reading them stories as they sit on my lap, and rocking them when they wake up a little too soon and then doze back off in my arms. The love that overcomes me is indescribable.