I am coming to terms, sort of, that I will only have two children. That I will only bring two children earthside and that their little lives are the only little lives that my husband and I will experience. The moments are fleeting and never did we think that we would only stop having kids when we reached two; but here we are and here is our truth.

Now I know some of y'all will say adoption is an option and it is. But there is a season of mourning that I am going through knowing that my body will never carry another child. I will never feel swift kicks vibrate through my womb and become visible on my stomachs surface. I am thankful that I was afforded the blessing of bringing two children earthside, it is an honor most women cannot do; but it still does not soften the heartache that I feel daily knowing that our son is our last baby and he wants to grow up too quickly.

Soaking in our moments is hard. It's life though, it is the season of motherhood that I am in. I know that I should be (& trust me, I am) thankful for our two beautiful and healthy children, but we wanted so many more baby feet pattering on our floors with tiny cries in the middle of the night & clingy newborns/infants who want to be held and loved on. This season, our last infant season, is closing in and I can't help but reflect on these things. Soon our son will be just as independent and determined as our daughter and while I cannot wait for that day, to see his personality shine, I also wish time would linger and go in slow motion.

At this stage in my life, I have come to term with the things that I cannot control but I have yet to come to terms with the kell. I don't know why I was the "lucky" individual to obtain it and not a male or why I received it and it remained undetected for so long.

All I know is that when I walked in to labor and deliver my daughter almost 4 years ago, I did not have it and when I walked out of the hospital with my baby girl in my arms, I did.

A blood transfusion. I received the antigen kell from the blood transfusion that saved my life after delivering my daughter. I have never expressed that I am so thankful to the individual who gave me my life and this opportunity; but I am also shaken. Had my husband and I decided that we would never have another child, this antigen would not even be a factor; but because we did, it was.

I will never understand why this antigen isn't screened in the blood before storing it in a blood bank for transfusions. I think I will question this for the rest of my life. Because the blood I received wasn't scanned, I received the antigen that almost killed our son while in utero. That could have killed him at any moment and that harbors a deep-rooted fear in my heart and soul that this could happen to another child and they could not be as lucky as our son was. This fear has lead me close to being sterilized.

Yes, I said sterilized. I took the mandated 2-hour course that my insurance requires because I don't want to risk the life of another child; but I can't quite pull the trigger, so to speak. How could I?

How could I not ever experience another life created by my husband and I growing inside me? Never again would I feel the swift kicks of a baby who is too big for my womb and ready to meet the world. It's a hard emotion and realization to put yourself through. I am 27-years-old, I didn't think I would be incapable of children or debating this at my age.

We moved out of our townhome officially a week ago, and I am sad. I took a photo of Charlie's moccs and our address, simply because I needed it and those footprints were made at that address. Where she learned how to walk, and I first heard the pitter patter of her foot steps. Where laughter followed after I would chase her. Where she would run and greet me at the door after a long shift at work. We did messes and kisses and tantrums and chases and hide and seeks with leaves seeking in the house as well as rocks somehow. I will miss so much about the old home but I'm looking forward to our new memories here.