12 Signs That Might Prove a Mom Is Done Having Babies

You think to yourself, "I can't wait for this to be over," for a lot of your waking pregnant time, even though you wanted very badly to be in this position in the first place and know that many, many people would give their right arm to be where you are.

You ask your husband how he would feel about getting a vasectomy when this is all over. "Haha," he says. "Haha," you say. "No but seriously," you also say.

You tell your husband you'd very much like it if he took care of business, as it were, because you never want to do this again, and it is only fair, after all (actually, not even really approaching fair, but let's not quibble over details.) He suggests that you wait until the baby is born first before you do it and you agree.

You and your pregnant friends discuss how having a C-section might not be that bad because then you could just get your tubes tied while the hood is popped.

You ask your obstetrician if she can recommend any urologists. She does not seem remotely surprised by this question.

A friend tells you her husband got a vasectomy. You carefully write down the name of the doctor.

You think to yourself, "This is actually pretty great." The baby is adorable and sweet and sleeps a lot. You feel like you kind of know what you're doing. You're on maternity leave and it's the summertime and you're so happy not to be pregnant anymore that you even are enjoying your sweaty, flabby, bleeding body. You wonder, "What if we had a third?" Your husband even says "It's up to you." You get angry at him because he's supposed to say "I think we're done."

Then you remember that you will have to have three car seats, and that you will be pretty close to 40 if you have another baby, and that is three college tuitions, and it would still be nice to afford an occasional vacation, and that if this were the olden days you'd be dead by now of preeclampsia and who knows if the third baby would be some nightmare child and don't forget that YOU HATED BEING PREGNANT.

You decide that this is not something frivolous like scheduling the dentist. You stand nearby while your husband schedules a vasectomy. Incidentally, nagging him is pretty good birth control in and of itself, so maybe he doesn't need one after all.
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You give away every piece of maternity clothes that no longer fit—even the good, designer jeans—and the baby clothes as well, even your favorite ones. You just feel done with it all and it's time to make room in your house and your life.

You feel a little bit sad that you will likely never again feel that sweet intimacy of the first few weeks at home with a new baby, but that's life. You also really look forward to never having to wash another bottle or empty another Diaper Genie again.

Your husband jokes that you should have another baby after you see a diaper commercial and you inform him that there people can volunteer to hold newborns in hospitals. Where they also do vasectomies.