>Meltdown on Aisle 4

When I was eight months pregnant with Bruiser, I was essentially in agony. I had broken my foot, was suffering from frightening ocular migraines, and my multiple aches and pains had convinced me that I was going to give birth to a 20-pounder.

What on earth made me think getting pregnant again was a good idea? I asked myself. This is the pits! I am never having another baby as long as I live!

Bruiser eventually was born and my body recovered, but my mind has remained unchanged. Cleaning up after exploding diapers at 2am, feeling like my arms are about to fall off as I swing Bruiser in his carrier to lull him into sleep, cutting phone conversations short because of his incessant squawking… This job is hard, particularly with a three-year-old and two teenagers added to the mix. I love Bruiser and all, but after him, I decided, I was done with babies. Done.

Explain, then, what happened to me yesterday at the supermarket deli. There I was, patiently waiting for lunch meat, tickling Bruiser’s tiny feet and making him giggle, when I paused. These baby feet, I thought. They’re so… wonderful. And when these feet get bigger, I’ll never have more. That will be the end of little baby feet for me. Inexplicably, a sob welled up in my throat.

“Is this what you want?” a voice said beside me.

“I’m not sure,” I croaked. “I mean, I thought I was through, but now, I just don’t know.” There was a long pause.

“Ma’am?!”

I looked up. The deli worker was standing before me, holding up a slice of bologna. “You said not too thick, not too thin,” she said. “Is this what you want?”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s fine,” I said, quickly looking away to brush the welling tears from my eyes.

And suddenly, I understood why one of the moms at my stepdaughters’ high school soccer game spent most of the match wheeling Bruiser around in his stroller. And why another of those moms called me all but begging to babysit him some time when I had errands to run. Older children are wonderful and engaging, but for the rest of our lives, a part of us desperately misses our babies.

This knowledge makes it a little easier for me to drop whatever I’m doing and hold Bruiser until my back begs for mercy. It makes waking up every two hours at night to feed him less of a nightmare. I’m trying to enjoy every moment of his babyhood, both the good and the bad, because once it’s gone, it’s gone forever.

This post originally appeared on Parents.com.