The word last is so final and as I thought about “last”, I thought of my last baby. Baby #5 who will make an appearance in 2-2 ½ years. The thought of having a last baby is terrifying and refreshing. I love babies. I love their smell. I love their drool. I love their smiles and the peace they bring into the family! Also, babies are a lots of work and the more time goes by, I forget how much work new babies are. The diapers, the late nights, the crying, the upset other kids who don’t want to accept the new baby. The sheer exhaustion of it all!! But then I think of the smiles and bubbles and the walking and crawling and cuteness all around. I have had babies for 8 ½ years. It is very odd and surreal to think of no more Bell babies. But at the same time, it is kind of exciting to be in a new phase of life. One where we can go places without stopping for feeding breaks and diaper blowouts or upset tummies or colic. I love babies. I am almost done with babies and I am happy about it, then I feel bad for being happy about it. Long story short, I want to enjoy my last little (sure to be chubby) baby. I want the kids to enjoy the baby. The smell of that head, which I am convinced is the smell of heaven. The tiny fingers. All of it. Last is such a final word. But last can also mean new beginnings and new experiences with older kids. I will always see babies and love them. I will always see babies and want to hold them. My cousin told me someday I would be done with having babies and be ready to be done. I thought she was crazy, but I see there is a time and season for all things and my baby season is eventually going to come to a close. It’s just strange.