Have I got another one in me?........

A friend recently said she had her third child, despite quite an age gap "because she just felt like she had another one in her"

This is, I think, a great way to describe the greedy, greedy biological clock that is my body.

In the words of R Kelly, "my mind's telling me no, but my body's telling me yes....."

We have three amazing babies.  I survived two pregnancies virtually painlessly.  We are all happy and healthy.  A family of five is enough to feel big without being unmanageable.  We haven't priced ourselves out of nice family holidays.  We're outnumbered but we can handle it.  My body is getting back to normal, I'm running again. The planet is already over-populated enough.

My brain tells me all of these things.

My tragic, melodramatic body says

"But you'll never breastfeed again, you'll never have the joy of growing a human being inside you, you'll never go through childbirth again, you'll never again hold your tiny newborn in your arms and feel all the love in the world"*

Hmmm.

I'm feeling incredibly empathetic towards those women in their thirties whose bodies turn against them.  There they are, enjoying good careers, fancy clothes, casual relationships and lots of lovely wine when suddenly, their treacherous body starts demanding they sniff babies heads and browse the Little White Company catalogue.

Ugh.  Yet again, being a woman has some stinking downsides.

I'm going to keep ignoring my ridiculous, demanding ovaries and the voice of baby number four (I think she's blonde and called Matilda) and crack on with looking after the three I've got. 

And one day, I might be able to persuade myself that three really is enough.  Probably the next time I'm in Clarks buying shoes....

*My body knows full well that I hate being pregnant, breastfeeding makes me feel like a dairy cow and I was so tired/ drugged up after having babies by "assisted" means that I never got that "moment" with any of them.