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I'm So Glad I Can't Have Another Baby!

Photograph by Twenty20

Oh, the many joys to behold when your kids are past the toddler age. With Aria now 10 and AJ now 6, I can rattle off a list a mile long about how much better life is now that they are more human than they were at 3.

It’s not easier, don’t get me wrong, but it's a different kind of life when your kids can walk and talk and there's no food being thrown around. More good news is that now that Aria is 10 and I had her at an already "post-maternal age" or whatever that's called, I can firmly state I am way past baby-making age. Praise Yeezus!

There is nothing that could make this single mom happier than knowing I will never be pregnant ever again. Here’s why:

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1. I have my life back—sort of.

New moms talk ad-nauseam about how liberating it was when they took their first Soul Cycle class or drink a glass of red wine at a girls night. It's a moment of reverie when you no longer have to rush home to pump or clean a milk soaked shirt. For so long we are extensions of our babies. This is one of the most wonderful times of life. The world stands still and we are in the most amazing zone of true purpose.

But holy fuck, if it isn’t amazing to get yourself back and for our worlds to open up again! The good news is that now with my non-baby babies, I have this and two amazing kids to come along for the ride. Now, I am me and they are them ... except when the get in my bed and we sleep spooning like the world is going to end. But other than that, I am me again and it feels so damn good. I'm thankful to the G-Almighty for making my body this way.

I am not envisioning some fantasy of perfection to build my family with. I’ve got my family. I’m good.

2. I look at single men differently.

I'm no longer looking to meet who I could potentially procreate with. It’s OK if they have a weird nose and no trust fund. Then again, I never thought of this once when dating in my baby-making years (maybe I should have), but I do think on a primal level that because I am not looking for a man to build my cave, my scope has opened up. I am not envisioning some fantasy of perfection to build my family with. I’ve got my family. I’m good. Anyone who comes in at this point is fulfilling a totally different need.

3. This is my body and the only dramatic changes that happen to it from here on out will be totally in my control.

Or that of a skilled plastic surgeon. The only way my tits are changing shape is if I get some nice C-cup silicone implants shoved in them. My ass will only get bigger if I keep eating the way I do or get some fat from somewhere else on my body shoved into it. I'm open to all of it. But I'm not open to another human life screwing up what took years to whip back into shape.

4. My vagina can only get tighter from here on out.

Even with my two C-sections, baby carrying did nothing to keep my vajay in tact. I still had to do three ThermiVa sessions to tighten things up. Sometimes I lie in bed and think about how happy I am that she can only go North from here and not South because a baby is not putting pressure on me down there.

5. I love the skin I’m in because I’m not living each day in fear of waking up with a road map of stretch marks.

Luckily I emerged from two pregnancies unscathed, but I did have a face covered in so many brown spots I looked like Michael Jackson. A million lasers killed that off and I can sleep with the knowledge that the only spots from here on out are going to be from old age. Superficial and a small price to pay for a beautiful baby? Hell yes, and I'll be the first to own up to it.

6. Chemicals are mine, all mine.

I can choose a vice, any vice whenever I damn please: Botox, Splenda, sushi, nicotine, liquor, a Brazilian hair straightener, the list of things that kill goes on. OK, really, my idea of hardcore partying and living on the edge is eating an entire pint of Halo Top ice cream, chasing it with a Diet Coke while binging on "Odd Mom Out," but I like to think that if I woke up and decided I wanted to re-enact my college years, I could do so without harming a developing fetus. This is the feeling of freedom all new mothers start fantasizing about when the high of breastfeeding starts to wane.

7. Young guys want to have sex with me like crazy.

At first I thought it was insane that every hot 25-year-old model/actor on the dating app Raya wanted to bang me but then I realized why. They know they ‘aint getting this ol’ lady preggo and also not worried I’m going to ask them to put a baby model/actor in me.

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8. I'm still tired, but I can sleep in a way only non-pregnant, non-new moms can.

I'm divorced and able to sleep past 6 a.m. a couple of days a week. What can I say, life is damn good.

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