Today I held a baby. A less-than-a-week old, squishy, squirmy, contented little newborn. He fit in my one arm. He snuggled up to me. He was perfection. I was able to hold him, coo at him, enjoy him, without once feeling that ovarian twinge that made me wish he was mine. Or make me wish my own were still babies.
I don’t know that I won’t want another one of my own someday down the line. But not now. Right now we are exactly what we need to be.