Having a baby is so funny.

He can go two days in the same outfit. Or he can wet through four outfits in one day.

His little hands grab everything. My hair, my shirt, a blanket, a toy, a brother -- anything that his fat little fingers happen upon. I took doughnuts to Alec’s class for his birthday, and Wellington was promptly mobbed by little boys and girls, resulting in a little girl finger in each fist.

Everywhere on him is chubby. Everywhere is squishy. Even his smile is fat. He is so fun to hold. Sturdy and soft, floppy and firm, all at once. There's a reason I call him "my little fat honey."

He just learned how to spit, and now he spits when he’s happy, and he spits when he’s sad.

He has the prettiest dark blue eyes, the softest dark brown hair, and the most adorable little coo.

Man, I love having a baby.

I was just thinking the other day about different stages of my life, and how it has so often seemed like nothing could be better than the stage I'm currently in.

When I was a teenager and in my early twenties, I felt bad for the newlyweds who seemingly disappeared from the youth group into their own boring lives. No more hikes with friends. No more volleyball late into the night. No more Dutch Bros. runs. No more softball games. As much as I wanted to be in love, I also couldn’t quite imagine not wanting to experience those things on the regular anymore.

But let me tell you, I didn’t miss that life much at all once I started my own “boring” married life. 🙂

And then when I was engaged and then newly married, it was all so exciting and so beautiful that I couldn't imagine life ever being any better than it was right then and there. I actually felt kind of bad for people who had been married a long time because it seemed depressing to never have that newness and that excitement repeated, to never get to experience it all for the first time again.

But now I’ve been married almost ten years, and the thought of being newly married isn't appealing at all! (I mean, other than actually getting to spend any amount of real quality time together -- that would be nice.) 🙂

And then came the excitement of my first pregnancy. I had seasoned moms giving me advice here and there, and I honestly just felt bad for them because they’d never get to experience that first pregnancy again. Postpartum, not so much, but the pregnancy part . . . the excitement and the learning and the preparing and the seeing that itty bitty person on the ultrasound screen for the first time. It seemed sad to only ever get to experience it in that way once, and I enjoyed my first pregnancy for all it was worth.

But now I’ve had four babies, and I wouldn't wish that first pregnancy and postpartum back for anything. The fourth baby has felt like such a dream compared to the first. I know what to expect, and even though there's still really hard parts, the overall feeling is "I know what this is, and I know what to do, and I know that this, too, shall pass." I wouldn’t go back to that first-time pregnancy euphoria even if I could.

And that got me thinking about the stage of life I’m in now. How that maybe someday I’ll look back at these days as well and be able to see the incredible beauty in them but also be able to not wish them back.

I can’t quite imagine that.

These are the best days of my life. I don’t ever want to be without a houseful of children. I don’t ever want to be done writing down the funny things they say and do. I don’t ever want to be done having endless laundry and endless dishes and endless cleaning and never quite getting the to-do list all crossed off, because that means my house is full, and my heart is fuller.

Don't get me wrong, I would love a perpetually clean house, perpetually full drawers, perpetually prepped food, eternally clean dishes, the bills always paid, and the bookwork always caught up, but I can't quite bear to think about how it will be when those days are here again and my boys are not.

“How can we ever not have a baby?” I’ve said again and again, usually while squishing whoever the current baby boy is. 🙂

But the fact that the youth group days don’t call me, the fact that the newlywed days don’t call me, the fact that the first baby days don’t call me . . . it makes me think that maybe when I am past this stage, it won’t call to me either, that life will continue to be beautiful no matter what stage is next.

I hope so.

Because I really don’t know how I’m ever going to want to stop having babies.