It is, perhaps, the hardest decision of all. In life. To decide that you are "done" having babies.

I would have had two more perhaps, but I have something called Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG). And it took me and my marriage to the brink.....I was literally crawling on the floor to get upstairs to bed, so I'm a little extra sad that my second child, is my last.

I could never ever describe it myself....I'm not that good with words. But while reading The Poisonwood Bible - I came across a passage that made me cry and cry and cry. It said what I could never say....

"That's how it is with the firstborn, no matter what kind of mother you are -- rich, poor, frazzled half to death or sweetly content. A first child is your own best foot forward, and how you do cheer those little feet as they strike out. You examine every turn of flesh for precocity, and crow it to the world.

But the last one: the baby who trails her scent like a flag of surrender through your life when there will be no more coming after -- oh, that's love by another name. She is the babe you hold in your arms for an hour after she's gone to sleep. If you put her down in the crib, she might wake up changed and fly away. So instead, you rock by the window, drinking the light from her skin, breathing her exhaled dreams. Your heart bays to the double crescent moons of closed lashes on her cheeks. She's the one you can't put down.

My baby, my blood, my honest truth: entreat me not to leave thee, for whither thou goest I will go. Where I lodge, we lodge together. When I die, you'll be buried last."

The kleenex is on me, girls.