To mamas known and mamas unknown. This post is for you.

I’ve wanted to write this for a while, for mamas undecided, for mamas who aren’t quite sure whether they’re done having kids or not.

So mamas? Let’s chat about this question that’s pressing on your heart…

How will I know when I’m done having kids?

But before we get started, I want to take time to acknowledge special groups of mamas out there because this post may or may not be for you.

For mamas who have grieved the loss of an infant or child, I hear your cries, I feel your pain, your longing to see, touch your baby just one more day. This post may or may not be for you.

For mamas who are experiencing infertility, who have tried for months, years to conceive? I pray you will be blessed with child. This post may not be for you.

For mamas who have been called to adopt, and are in the seemingly never-ending waiting process, bless your soul. You inspire me. This post may not be for you.

For mamas who are unable to bear children of your own, can’t afford adoption or infertility treatments, or are “too old” to be considered a candidate for such things, but long for a child to love? My heart goes out to you. I pray that God will work a miracle, I pray He’ll place children in your life through other means, and that those children will bring you great joy and fulfillment. This post may or may not be for you. 

For mamas who whole-heartedly embrace natural family planning, for those who hope to bear as many children as the Lord will provide until He carries you gently into menopause? You are amazing and an inspiration as well. This post may not be for you.

For mamas who became pregnant due to rape, incest, sexual abuse, prostitution or trafficking, and you’ve made the incredible decision to birth, raise or place this child for adoption? May peace and blessings be poured out on your life. May you find the freedom and healing you need. Press on mama. You are incredibly brave. This post may not be for you.

For mamas of children who have special needs, who have to weigh and measure your decision to have more children NOT based on your heart of hearts, but on your reality of caring for your child with special needs? You are precious, a rare gem. Follow your heart, trust your instincts, take your time, and engage God, medical professionals, therapists, and those closest to you about your decision to have more children or not. Whatever decision you make, it will be the right one for you and your family. This post may or may not be for you.

For mamas who have a history of abortion, who want to heal, overcome, create, birth and raise a little life someday, but aren’t ready, aren’t sure, aren’t feeling worthy of the call to be mama? This post may not be for you.

For mamas in other special circumstances – pregnant in your teens, pregnant in your forties, pregnant after years of infertility treatments, living in extreme poverty, living with mental illness or a significant medical condition, living amidst chronic trauma? This post may or may not be for you.

For all you mamas who KNOW you’re NOT done having kids, awesome. This post may not be for you (yet).

So who is this post for?

This post is for any mama who’s debating…

How will I know when I’m done having kids?

Let me tell you a quick story. Our two oldest children are 11 and 9 years old. Our “baby” is 2 years old. So there’s nearly seven years between our second and third child. During those years in-between baby two and three, there were a couple things that made us question whether we should have more children. I sought answers, I sought wise counsel, and I wasn’t sure how to answer when people asked if we were done having kids. The truth was, I didn’t have confidence I was “done,” and my husband was willing to consider having another. So while the questions still lingered, our biological clocks were ticking. Finally, we committed to pray hard about it for one week. We felt led to try for a third child and became pregnant within months. Our third child has been a significant blessing for our entire family, and I wouldn’t trade her for the world. But now I’m 100% confident that we’re done having kids.

So I thought I’d share with you today what that looks like, what that feels like…to know, to be confident that you’re DONE having kids.

Here are 11 signs you MIGHT be done having kids…

1) You just KNOW you’re done having kids. Yes, you just know. This is hard to describe, but is the best all-around indicator that you’re done. It’s a feeling of complete clarity.

2) When another mama announces she’s pregnant, you’re happy for her, but her announcement doesn’t compel you to have another child yourself. In other words, other mamas’ pregnancies don’t stir in you a desire to become pregnant anymore.

3) When your “baby” is still your baby, and other “babies” her same age are becoming big brothers and sisters? And it hasn’t even crossed your mind to give your “baby” a baby brother or sister? And you don’t have any plans to give your “baby” a baby brother or sister any time in the future? Ya, you might be done having kids.

3) Maybe you’re the kind of mama who loved being pregnant. You still admire pregnant mamas’ beautiful, round bellies and glowing skin, and maybe you’d even choose to be pregnant again (just the pregnancy part). But you can’t quite picture yourself doing that newborn stage all over again, and you can’t picture yourself doing another round of middle of the night feedings, and you can’t picture yourself going through any of that all over again.

4) You remember labor and delivery all too well. You haven’t forgotten. In fact, you remember that last labor and delivery quite vividly. You promised yourself you’d never do this again! And you’re still confident. You won’t ever do that again. 🙂

5) When other mamas give birth and bring that little babe home, you’re glad to greet, hold and help with the baby, but not so quick to want to step in their shoes.

6) When it’s time to start putting away the baby stuff, you realize it’s actually time to get rid of it. And for the most part, you have no problem selling it, donating it, or giving it to someone. In fact, when any of your kids grow out of anything, you want to get rid of it right away, because you’re just ready to move beyond this baby, toddler, little kiddo clutter.

7) You’re willing to consider longer-term and/or permanent options for birth control. (Yes, I know this is a private, sensitive and potentially controversial subject, but I’ve seen many age/stage peers discuss this openly within a trusted group of friends when they know they’re done having kids. So I’m confident this is a significant sign.)

8) Your own dreams as a woman start moving to the forefront again. You look at where you’ve been, you look ahead at what’s to come, and the years flash before you. Time is ticking in a different way than before you had children. Life is only so long. So as much as you adore your children, you also know you need space to pursue the desires of your heart, space to make your way again.

9) You’re suddenly open to expanding your definition of “motherhood” to include children you engage with at work, in the neighborhood, at church, at family gatherings, and anywhere else you can get your hands on kids to fulfill those motherly instincts and desires you have. You don’t have to be everyone’s mother to be satisfied; being a motherly figure is just fine with you now.

10) You start daydreaming, just a little bit, of becoming a grandmother. And it sounds awesome, even better than motherhood. You know this isn’t the end. More than likely, you’ll have an opportunity to grand-mother your own grandkids or someone else’s grandkids down the road.

11) On good days, you feel perfectly in control of the children you have. Everything’s dandy. On bad days, you feel like you’re barely maintaining control of the children you have. And in the midst of very bad moments, you feel like you’re hanging on by a shoestring; you could truly use a little help. In your heart of hearts, you know that if you had one more child, you wouldn’t be able to care for your children the way you want to. Just the thought of that makes you very, very sad. Reality sets in. THIS. is the number of kids I’m supposed to have. You love your kids. You want to care and nurture your children to the best of your ability. And you want the best for your kids. You also know how much work it is to raise human beings, how much effort it takes to be a mother on call 24/7. So you know, this decision is for the best. It’s time to be done having kids. Because you want to love the children you’ve been blessed with oh so much.

So mamas, I’m not a psychologist, a doctor, or a child development researcher. And I’m certainly not God. But I am a mama. So mama to mama, heart to heart, I ask you to consider the points above and make your way accordingly. If you’re torn and confused, pray about it. The answer will become much more clear.

This isn’t so much a science as it is a matter of the heart.

Be gentle with yourself, mama. God has a plan for you and your family.

 

 

 

SPECIAL NOTES ABOUT THIS POST:

I’m aware of the sensitive nature of this post. I could have easily written this post with a snarky, comedic tone. But that is not my nature. Rather, I have been careful to approach this subject with due diligence and honor, knowing there are many different views on child bearing.

I am also fully aware that I neglected to address fathers’ influence and involvement in this post. Obviously, fathers are critical to this discussion. My decision to keep fathers out of this post (for the most part) does not in ANY WAY downplay their significance in parenting or decision making. My desire was for this post to be written for a mama’s heart. Dads, if you would like to hear a dad’s opinion on this matter, perhaps I can talk my husband into writing a similar post from a male perspective?!

The 11 points I listed in this post do not represent every woman’s experience. But I wanted to put something out in the blogosphere for the woman who’s seeking answers to this age old question. How will I know I’m done having kids? I hope and pray this post lands on the screen of the souls who need it most. 

If this post finds you in the midst of questioning, feel free to email me at amybpederson@hotmail.com and I’m happy to chat it through with you in a more “intimate” setting. I’m honored to say I’ve walked one mama through this questioning, and she and her husband ultimately decided to have a fourth child, a decision they have clearly delighted in to this day.

We had one cold, windy and dreary day on Monday. According to the weather forecasters, it was the coldest day we’ve seen in Minnesota on July 14th since 1884.

We were all cold. And quite honestly, we didn’t have much to do. Yep, the good ‘ol mid-summer phrase “I’m bored” came out for the first time that afternoon.

So what’s a mom to do when she has three kids who are acting bored out of their minds, it’s the coldest it’s been in 130 years, no friends are around, and another DVD just won’t cut it for mom or anyone else?

Think of a wholesome, very boring activity, and do it.

Boring, you say? Yep. Boring. Boring to them. Incredibly brilliant to you. Because mom? You know “boring” activities aren’t really boring. The kids just don’t know it yet.

So break out all the boring things from here on out. Like that boring, old fashioned activity where you all get down on the ground and draw with some sidewalk chalk. Color hearts until they shine like the sun, then let the toddler doodle right over them because it doesn’t matter anyway. Draw flowers in pots with blue skies, write your name in bubble letters layered with red, green and blue. Let her bring her furry blanket outside on the driveway and tuck away under it like a turtle for as long as she wants. And don’t even make a big deal of it when the pre-teen shows up. Because he’s too cool for sidewalk chalk. If you stay still, if you don’t say a word, he’ll join in for a little fun too. And let them get dirty, because there’s no reason they need to be clean at the end of this boring old day anyway.

And mom? Make sure you soak this moment in. Because this is boring. Truly boring stuff. It’s mid-summer. And life is boring. As boring as it’ll ever get.

There comes a time when you realize your babies aren’t babies anymore.

Remember when it first happened, mom? That moment you realized your baby was growing up before your eyes? You went to lift him out of the crib and suddenly he seemed much bigger than he did before nap time. You wondered what happened. How in the world did he get this big without me noticing?

Remember that first day you dropped her off at daycare, that first time you left her with a babysitter, that first time you left her at grandma and grandpa’s house overnight? All the days she’d lived flashed before your eyes. You wondered if things would ever be the same. When you returned, she seemed bigger, a little more independent than she did before you dropped her off.

Remember those open houses and first days of school when you met his teacher for the first time? It took all you had to keep those tears from flowing down your face, didn’t it, mama? The way the teacher kneeled down right at his level, the way she showed him around the classroom, the way he peeked inside his desk and locker for the first time, it made you realize he was a big boy now, all grown up, ready for anything big boys do.

Remember the most ordinary of days, when your baby plopped down on your lap and you realized she wasn’t a baby, she wasn’t a toddler, and she wasn’t even much of a little girl anymore? Her feet were nearly as big as yours, and she’d been asking when she could wear a sports bra. It was a little easier to envision her all grown up now; you caught a glimpse of what she’ll be like when she’s driving, dating, going to college.

Remember the day you got that letter from school saying it’d soon be “the day?,” the day they had “the talk?” And he came home with a brochure stating in clear English that he’d be turning into a man soon? And you noticed some of the girls his age are wearing bras and it scared you to death? Ya, that.

Remember the moment you realized you’re going to spend the rest of your life realizing your babies aren’t babies anymore?

How in the world do I have a son old enough to drive a car…by himself?!

And why, oh why, do I suddenly find myself the mother of a teenage girl who’s going to prom?

Where did the time go? My baby’s off to college. And now, instead of baking after-school chocolate chip cookies, I’m sending care packages.

And please tell me, how in the world am I supposed to not break down sobbing when my baby girl stands in front of the mirror with a wedding dress on? Or when my son stands at the end of the aisle smiling at his bride-to-be?

Oh, sweet day. Where did the time go? Those grandbabies, so sweet and precious. How is it possible that my baby’s having a baby? What’s a grandmama to do but love on those little ones to the moon and back? Because who doesn’t love a second chance to love on your babies all over again?

Time. It goes on.

Love. It never ends.

We wonder if we’ll ever get the days back. We won’t.

For most of us, our babies aren’t babies anymore.

But we love on them dearly, even so, even more.

Because we’re moms for such a time as this.

We suffer, we sacrifice, we ache and we cling.

We love and we dote, we treasure and we sing.

For our babies aren’t babies anymore. But our babies, they’ll always be.

Amy

*This post is part of a month-long series titled Motherhood Unraveled. To read more from this series, click here and read to the bottom where all the posts are listed and linked!

I have zero tolerance for brat behavior from my children. Period.

I have no patience for it, none at all.

Want to offend the core of who I am? Demonstrate brat behavior.

Want to risk having all privileges stripped from your life? Demonstrate brat behavior.

Want to make me cringe to my bones? Demonstrate brat behavior.

Want me to be embarrassed beyond belief? Demonstrate brat behavior.

Want to humble me, make me realize this motherhood thing is serious, serious business? Demonstrate brat behavior.

Harsh, I know.

But brat behavior is something I don’t take lightly. The slightest offense and the most outright one are all the same in my book.

I’m fully aware that my children are privileged. They have everything they need. And between Christmas and birthdays, they get a lot of the things they want.

Sure, the 11-year-old wants a Xbox, a television in his room, and his own phone. Sure, the 9-year-old wants an iPod, her own iPad and another American Girl Doll. But let’s be realistic, these things are NOT necessities! And I’m not interested in getting them for my children anytime soon.

I want my children to be kind, humble, grateful, giving and other-oriented.

So moms, how should we respond when our children demonstrate even an ounce of brat behavior? Let me suggest five ways.

1. Determine an appropriate consequence for your child’s brat behavior. In other words, do not ignore the offense, but instead determine the best way to let your child know their behavior was unacceptable. Did they leave their birthday present on the ground and neglect to say thank you to grandpa and grandma? Well, maybe they don’t get birthday cake then, and maybe they need to spend the night in their room. Did they demand you get them that bowl of cereal or glass of lemonade? Maybe they need to try again using kinder words, or maybe they need to get the bowl of cereal or glass of lemonade themselves.

2. Put your child to work. Get them helping around the house. Enlist them in helping with dinner, setting the table, cleaning up the table, and picking up the snack wrappers they left all over the house. Make them clean their room, even if they don’t like it. Make them help you with 20 minutes of yard work, even if they think it’s the “dumbest thing ever.”

3. Get your child outdoors. As far as I’ve observed, children are most creative and least bratty when they’re outdoors engaging in child play. Bring them to the playground, give them some chalk and let them write all over the driveway, buy some water balloons from the dollar store and let them fill them up to their heart’s desire, encourage them to take their scooters and bikes out for a ride, or maybe, just maybe, let them get bored for once and they’ll come up with something really cool to do!

4. Encourage your child to serve others. And if it doesn’t come naturally, set up a service opportunity. Is there garbage all over the road leading to your neighborhood? Get garbage bags and go clean it up with your child. Is there an opportunity to serve others in need through your church or a local nonprofit? Sign up. Does grandma need someone to wipe the table and get buns from the freezer? Assign your child to those tasks.

5. Create space for margin in your life. Perhaps your child is tired, worn out, overstimulated. Stop doing. Stop going. Stop buying. Get quiet. Get close. Get near. Wonder, just wonder, what it would be like if you and your child chilled out and just enjoyed life together – without things, without special activities, without once in a lifetime opportunities. What if it’s not MORE they need, but LESS?

Moms, I certainly don’t have this problem solved, and I’m most definitely NOT a perfect mom. My goal is simply to reduce (and ideally eliminate) the undesired brat behaviors my children exhibit from time to time. Because even an ounce of brat behavior makes me realize that motherhood is serious, serious business.

We’re raising human beings who will one day become adults. And the last thing we want to create is entitled adults. Right?

If nothing else, may this post help you realize you’re not alone. Or maybe you’ve read something that will make you think twice next time your child demonstrates brat behavior and you’re wondering how to respond.

As moms, it’s our privilege and responsibility to raise children that are respectful, honoring, giving and grateful. So are you ready moms? Let’s fight to instill these values in our children. Because it’s worth every ounce of effort we’re willing to give.

Amy

*This post is part of a month-long series titled Motherhood Unraveled. To read more from this series, click here and read to the bottom where all the posts are listed and linked!

When I was a little girl, I dreamed of becoming a ballerina one day. Ballerinas were graceful, beautiful and precise. Something about that combination was alluring to my little girl heart.

There was just one problem. I’d never taken a day of ballet in my entire life. And I wasn’t about to anytime soon.

While I didn’t get to do ballet, I did do dance. Mom enrolled me in dance line. And for that, I’m grateful.

All my friends were in dance. We kicked and grooved to good old 80s tunes like “We Built This City,” “Splish Splash,” and “Uptown Girl.” We wore skirted royal blue leotards with a white stripe and matching gloves, because groovy tunes require groovy gear, you know!

My memories of dance were positive. In fact, I don’t have one negative memory from all my years of dance. Somewhere along the way, however, my participation in tennis, band and choir prohibited me from continuing with dance. But my secret desire and passion for dance never went away.

In high school, I loved school dances. I never understood why people wanted to leave early, and hated when dad set my curfew before dances were done. In college, I had no problem literally dancing the night away at fraternity parties, and took my fair share of Jazzercize classes. When I went to graduate school and became a wife and mom, I missed the dancing life because truth be told, it was nonexistent at that point. So when I joined a gym shortly after our second baby was born, I found a hip hop class and faithfully attended once a week for a couple years.

Eventually, reality set in. While in my heart of hearts, I still thought it would be amazing to be a ballerina…well…now I just fantasized about being a professional backup dancer for big name singers like Britney Spears and Ricky Martin, Katy Perry and Lady Gaga. Realistic, right? Because THAT was ever going to happen?!

So when our oldest daughter indicated interest in dance, I had no problem enrolling her promptly!

In preschool, she took dance all year. She was with all of her friends, and was perfectly happy. But from my perspective as a parent, I wasn’t so pleased with the professionalism and organization of the studio, nor were some of the other parents, so most, if not all of her friends left that studio.

The summer before kindergarten, I moved her to a different studio that was much larger and more established. She started out loving it, but her enjoyment waned quickly. The simple fact was that NONE of her friends were at that studio, and since she’s a social butterfly, she needed connection with friends in order for it to be a positive experience. By Christmas, she was burned out and wanted to quit. It took all I had to let her drop dance after the Christmas recital (particularly since we’d already paid $150 for two spring recital costumes that were non-refundable) but I allowed it anyway, because it seemed silly to force a kindergartener to do something she didn’t enjoy all that much.

In first grade, she took the year off from dance. I have to admit, it was an unprecedented parenting moment to realize my daughter’s friends were continuing with dance at other studios while my daughter sat idle.

The summer before second grade, she connected with one of her neighbor friends who had started dance at another large studio nearby. Our schedules meshed, so we enrolled my daughter in the same class as her neighbor friend. They took dance together all year and this time around, she enjoyed it very much. I was convinced, yet again, it was all about the friendship factor for my daughter (this, something I TOTALLY didn’t understand as an introvert)! And did I mention I loved most everything about that studio?

This year, in third grade, our family schedule didn’t mesh with our neighbor’s schedule, so the girls weren’t able to enroll in class together. Still, I was able to convince her to go ahead and try it on her own since she had acclimated to the studio and had gotten to know other girls. Fortunately, a couple girls from her class last year were also in her class this year; I’m certain that made all the difference. But still, dance this year has been okay, fine. She hasn’t complained a ton, but she hasn’t loved her teacher either. While she’s improved at dancing by leaps and bounds, she hasn’t seemed totally overjoyed by it either. And the past couple of months, she’s talked about wanting to quit.

So I surrendered to reality, yet again. I wasn’t going to be a ballerina. I most certainly wasn’t going to be a professional back up dancer. And now, there was a great possibility I wasn’t even going to be a “professional” dance mom.

Boo!

But just as I’d surrendered to the possibility of her quitting dance next year, just 10 days before the spring dance recital, she says she might want to switch dance studios next year. “AGAIN,” I say?! “REALLY?” Yep. She might want to go back to the studio she was at in kindergarten, because it turns out a few of her friends go there now, and she’d like to dance with them on the competitive line.

Alrighty then.

So I call the studio, the one we were at when she was in kindergarten, and ask about their programming for fourth grade girls. My daughter promises she’ll talk to her friends and get their parents’ phone numbers so we can see which preparatory camps they’re taking this summer.

And that night, I hear her in the shower. She’s dancing, repeating the names of dance steps “shuffle ball change, shuffle ball change, shuffle ball change.”

I smile to myself.

I wonder, maybe I’ve gone about this all wrong. Maybe for her it’s all about friends first, then dance. For me, it’s all about dance first, and if friends happen to show up on the radar, then fine.

And I realize, motherhood isn’t an opportunity to live vicariously. In fact, the blessing, the beauty of motherhood, is that you have the opportunity to help your child realize their hopes and dreams for their life (and every once in a while, their dreams might happen to coincide with your dreams).

So I sit in a place of peace and resolve, understanding it’s all about friends for my daughter. She’s a social butterfly. And while I don’t understand her extraordinary need to socialize in every thing at every moment, I do need to work within that frame of reference to help her flourish as an individual. Always. Yes, always.

The high school girls are dancing; they’re wild, free, in synch. As I pass by with toddler in tow, I linger by the window, peering in, just as I’ve done so many nights as I wait for my daughter’s dance practice to end. I hear the beat. I feel it down to my bones. The toddler toddles on and it takes every fiber of my being to pull myself away from that window. Because all I really want to do is step right in.

Let me dance. Let me be free. Let me get lost in the rhythm, in the beat. Let me live the life of a dancer.

But I move on, step away. Because now’s not the time. So I set another goal. One day, I’ll try on ballerina. One day, I’ll try on back up dancer. And I won’t be much good at it, but I’ll love it. I’ll absolutely love it.

Then, in heaven, when I’m hangin’ with all the writers and musicians (just like I told you I would), I’ll put on my real dancing shoes and join all the dancers, too. Then, yes then, I’ll be a professional. Wild, free, in synch with the One who creates all the rhythms, all the beats. It will be awesome, everything I imagined and more.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find my daughter dancing right along with me.   

Amy

*This post is part of a month-long series titled Motherhood Unraveled. To read more from this series, click here and read to the bottom where all the posts are listed and linked!