Einy, Meiny, Miny, Mo. Catch a baby by the toe. If it hollers let it go. Out pops...
In the spring, Mr. C and I decided to "revisit" the idea of having a second baby, but only after I cavorted drunkenly at Blogher and sowed some Quaker oats.
The term "wild" does not pertain to me anymore, sadly. I'll probably be churning my own butter soon. But I digress.
Due to a baggage snafu, and some poor packing on my part, my birth control pills were left behind in Boston while I went on to Chicago for Blogher. (Hello, Dr. Freud) I decided that was as good a time as any to stop taking them. Step one of get me preggers was in action.
(And I feel fantastic, by the way. No more wanting to throw myself in front of a bus! I highly recommend chucking your birth control pills if you can.)
My weekend in Chicago is nothing more than a blurry memory now, so we could not avoid the discussion any longer. We had to have the talk.
Dum, dum, duummmmm.
Yep, still can't decide. Neither one of us. Stick with our one and only or become part of the American dream and strive for that 2.3 kid demographic? No freaking idea.
I'll be honest, the idea of having a second child scares the beejubs out of me. It took many, many years to get to the point where I could deal with having Chicky. I'm just not a kid person.
Actually, let me rephrase that. I'm not an infant person. I do love babies - the smell of slightly dirty baby head, tiny little baby shoes, that soft, smushy feeling when a baby falls asleep in my arms - but the rest of it? Eh. Not for me, thanks.
Not to mention my pregnancy with Chicky was a nightmare of epic proportions. Saying that I was nauseous for my entire pregnancy doesn't really do it justice. I was projectile vomiting for at least three months before my doctor took pity on me. She prescribed Zofran which, for those of you who had blessed pregnancies and never got sick (bitches), is an anti-nausea medication typically given to cancer patients going through chemotherapy. It helped. I was able to eat again, so that was a plus. But I was always in a state of constant nausea.
Hey, it kept me really thin. That's a plus I suppose.
There were more complications, but I'm really tired of bitching about my heinous pregnancy. It's not just carrying a kid again that scares me. It's not the fear of sciatica, extreme exhaustion, and constant puking. It's not even the fear of having another colicky baby who never, ever sleeps. Ever. It's the fear of throwing my life into complete upheaval that makes me want to hide under the covers until I go through menopause.
I like my life the way it is, okay? I said it. So there. I'm happy with one kid.
I've always felt like I was missing the necessary gene that made women all baby crazy. All my life I've felt inadequate due to my reluctance to have kids, like I'm less of a woman somehow. Now that I've taken the plunge and had a kid of my own I'm genuinely happy to be a mom. Chicky is amazing in every possible way and life wouldn't be the same without her.
I'd scream less, but that's besides the point. I'd love less too.
I have love in my heart for a second, but I'm content with the way things are now.
One is portable, two is a field trip.
One is manageable, two is a second mortgage.
One is amazing, two is... Well, I don't know what the comparison would be. My sister and I have an amazing relationship. Mr. C and his sister do too. It's hard to find fault with baby number two when you've got nothing but good experiences to base your decision on.
And if I'm not being so selfish as to worry just about myself and my relationship with my husband, there is Chicky to worry about. I've said having a second child for the benefit of the first is no reason to get pregnant again but Chicky is just so damn maternal and nurturing. She's got a lot of love to give too.
Chicky, my little monkey wrench.
Not a real baby, but must protect its sensitive glass eyes from sun damage just the same.The conversation has been "revisited" since Chicago - ahem - so we'll see what happens. We've given ourselves a date to try until, I guess we'll just throw caution to the wind and see what fate has in store for us. The last time Mr. C looked at me cross-eyed and I got knocked up so it should be interesting to see what happens this time.
Until then I should probably get those prenatal vitamins. Just in case.