Written For The Huffington Post: 10 Signs You Know You Are Done Having Kids


I have this good friend. She’s the mom of two awesome teenagers… and she claims she’s done having kids. Done. After all, her kids are all grown up. Why start all over now? But oddly enough, whenever she hangs out with my 3-year-old, she tells me her uterus hurts. Pangs in her girlie parts! Then, she shoots her husband the look of, “Maybe just one more,” before she realizes what one more would really mean, and she slowly returns to reality. I mean come on! She is done with bottles and diapers. Done with sleepless nights filled with crying, and ten o’clock feedings. She is done. Done with all things baby. But is she really? What if she just has to have one more kiddo?

Does this still happen to any of you? Does your family feel incomplete? Is your uterus dying to house just one more tiny human? Do you miss the baby stage of your toddlers’ or even teenagers’ lives? Are you terrified of the empty nest that will be here before you know it? If you answered yes, you might not be finished with baby-making. For me, the answer to all those questions is a big fat NO!

And maybe like me, you read every diet and health publication you can get your hands on―book, magazine, website, whatever. You replace meals with shakes or smoothies and stop eating carbs—because it’s time to finally lose that baby weight! No more blaming it on future pregnancies. No more excuses. There are NO MORE KIDS! I’m absolutely done having kids. I don’t even have that many. I have one.

One and done! But I love the perfectly-awesome one that I’ve got! Our family is complete. I know that I’m definitely done. I’m transitioning back to, “it’s all about me.” No more babies. Time to find me again. Time to get my groove back. Time to rock my pre-pregnancy skinny jeans. Time to get eight hours of sleep most nights. Time to (maybe) have more energy and desire to sleep with my husband.

Here are 10 more signs I know I’m done having kids. 

1. I get anxiety when I go to the hospital maternity floor to visit a friend who just gave birth. In fact, my palms are sweating and I’m taking note of the nearest exit.

2. When I see a very pregnant woman, I think to myself, “Thank God that isn’t me!”

3. When I listen to my friend vent about the difficulty her little one is having breastfeeding and sleeping through the night, I commiserate with her, but I continue to think to myself, “Thank God that isn’t me!”

4. I ask to hold my friend’s adorable new baby, and she does smell nice, but after about three minutes I realize I’m over it and hand her back.

5. I don’t get sad when bottles become sippy cups, diapers become underwear, cribs become beds, and burp cloths and bibs get boxed up to go in the attic. Say goodbye to it all. It’s just more clutter!

6. I love that my son goes to the bathroom by himself and I count the days until he can wipe his own ass so I don’t have to.

7. I start planning all the kid-free trips I can because finally mine is self-sufficient enough that his grandparents welcome sleepovers.

8. I don’t feel any need to save my maternity clothes. In fact, I would burn them if I could because that wasn’t exactly the most fashionable and flattering time in my life.

9. I get rid of my diaper bag and start carrying a proper (and smaller) purse.

10. I excitedly await the pregnancy announcements from my siblings so I can drop off the tons of boxes of baby gear and clothing taking up space in my house.

This post originally appeared on The Huffington Post.