(Note: This is not about you. This is about me. If you are upset or offended reading it, please remember that I did not write it to hurt anyone. It’s my thoughts on another, potentially rough, pregnancy and thoughts/fears that come with really not wanting to do it, and figuring out if that’s ok.)
Most of my friends are pregnant. Or have recently given birth to beautiful, gorgeous children. And it’s amazing to watch the babies get bigger and see their first born kids become big brothers and sisters.
It’s amazing that I was pregnant at the same time as a lot of them.
It’s amazing that I don’t want another one any time soon.
I have no baby fever. Not the kind that lingers anyway. There isn’t anything in me that craves a baby so much that I’d deal with
- hyperemesis gravidarium
- being told I’m gaining too much/eating too much/need more exercise
- pre term labor
- multiple hospital visits
- a horrible self image after
- no sleep
- PPD/A whatever the heck I had
- reflux for 6 months
or any of the above to the point that I would forget everything I went through with Bella and do it all over again.
I haven’t forgotten. I didn’t like it much then and I’m sure I wouldn’t like it much now. I was so sick with her. Then she was so sick. Why would I want to do that again?
I enjoy life the way it is right now. If another little one suddenly was in the plans, I’d be thrilled. I’d just jump in and make do. I’d simply accept my life would change and I had better get on board with it. And I would. I know that about myself.
But I’m sure as heck not ready to do that on purpose.
The other night Sam and I talked seriously about having another. We just laid it all out – finances, timing, schedule, etc. We decided we could do it. It would work.
I backed out the next day. Totally couldn’t fathom the realness of it. I just can’t see myself heaving over a toilet and waking up multiple times a night while knowing I chose it. Trying to find time for my writing and work as things pile up at home. Feeling torn between pursuing my passion and raising a family. I (please note: I) don’t know if I could find a good balance in it. Or if I want to find another balance. I told Sam I want to wait a while longer. Next year sometime. Maybe. He said he didn’t know if he really wanted another either. (Although he goes back and forth.)
I like not being sick. I like having one child to worry about. I like sleeping. I like the ability to walk out the door with Bella because she’s at an age where she has enough independence to follow along without a 50lb diaper bag and a 35lb car seat. I like her naps and that it means I have 2 hours to write, cook, clean – every day. I like that I have the time to have a part time job from home. I like being able to focus all my attention on her. I like that she and I are buddies and our days are spent together.
Does this come off as selfish? Well, it’s how I feel. At this moment, I can’t imagine actually wanting another child badly enough to overcome all this. I have Bella. For now, she is my all and more than enough. For us, for our family, one seems to be all we need right now.
I am happy with how things are. So happy with our little life of three. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with waiting and praying for direction. A second child changes your life again. In different ways than the first. I’m not ready for any of those life changes. And I don’t want them.