There. I said it. I finally admitted it. I want another baby...
I must be out of my mind. I write this blog post as my daughter wails in the background, reluctant to go to bed at 10:20 in the evening. She is less than 2. This is less than good.
Nights like this make the desire to have a second baby fade, for a while at least. But back it will come, popping its head up like a persistent weed that refuses to be rooted out.
"Why not have a second?" people opine, usually followed by some declaration that "only" children are lonely. Or that I'm not really that old. Or that my life is already taken over by one baby, so two is not a big deal (like they're dogs or something). I'm not sure I buy any of this.
To be honest there are so many more reasons to NOT have a second than to have one, I question my sanity. Maybe it's the fact that I'm 43, fat, out of shape, in a high pressure job that I can barely cope with right now, with a chronically ill husband, living in a city where we can't afford a 3 bedroom home.
Maybe.
And yet the feeling persists.
Days after Charlotte was born, I started thinking about it. We'd always assumed "just one." That we have Char at all is a minor miracle.
I know what you're thinking - it must have been a beautiful birth, or an easy pregnancy to make me want to do it again so soon.
Actually it was a gong show with every medical intervention known to man. It was horrible. It was supposed to be a natural birth, complete with doula and midwife. We even did weeks of preparation with Hypnobirthing. When I think back to how smug we were about the whole experience I cringe. Did I really think I would feel no pain? Mothers who had gone before me probably fought the urge to shake me by the shoulders and yell - this will hurt! Take the drugs!
More than two weeks late, I was induced (a particular form of cruelty IMHO) and couldn't handle the pain, breaking down after 18 hours and pleading for an epidural. I later found out I had an infection that would have made anyone's labour (even the most stoic, or yogic) excruciating. A failed epidural, 6 more hours of oxytocin and a mishandled spinal block that left me unable to breathe led up to Char emerging via c-section. They were in such a hurry they neglected to bring my husband in to witness the birth. Every single thing we wanted for Char's birth went out the window and I was devastated for a while. But we had her, and that was all that mattered in the end.
So, I figured the longing at the beginning was to somehow "right the wrongs" of Char's birth. And to me, that wasn't a good reason to have a second. So I waited for those feelings to pass. And some feelings did pass - my shame at not being able to stand the pain, my upset with the way things had gone and my disappointment that we didn't get the birth we wanted.
But the feelings of wanting a second persisted.
Then I went back to work. That was a real eye opener. After spending 24 hours a day at home, being at work all day, (even though I knew she was with her daddy), was torturous. I wanted to be home with her, to be back to the period when it was just our little family and I had time to do things. Women often complain about never being able to get things done with a baby. I know quite a few women who seek solace in work, taking a welcome break from parenting. I never had that and I wish I did. It's the job + baby that leaves me gasping for air. So I thought, maybe I just want another year off work? Also not a good reason to have a second baby. I looked at our finances and figured out we probably couldn't afford for me to take another year anyway. Case closed.
And yet the feelings persisted.
Of course I talked to my husband about this nagging feeling, to see if he felt it too. He understood, as he always does, but reminded me that he is in fact very ill and not exactly a young man any more. That although he adores Char, it takes everything he has to keep up with her every day and that two kids would probably kill him. And I remember just how difficult Char's birth was on our relationship. Two control freaks trying to raise a baby can be a bit of a struggle. After two years, we're pretty much back to normal, although 99% of our fights to this day are about how to raise our daughter. A new baby would more than likely bring all of that back up again.
But, you guessed it. The feelings persist.
What do you do when you want something that's a really bad idea? Do you just ignore it? Try to understand it? Analyze it? Wish it away? I'm not sure. Is this any different from wanting to eat nothing but ice cream or sell everything and move to Hawaii, or take up smoking, or cut all your hair off and dye it platinum? Is it just like any other naughty "craving" that should be acknowledged and dismissed?
My daughter stands in front of me now, still not asleep at 11:45PM. She's learning to pronounce her name as we speak, interspersed with "mommy" and requests for yogurt and berries. This morning she said "hug" and wrapped her little arms around me as I tried to race out the door to work. Gah.
She's been a night owl from day one (actually before that - she only woke up at about this time when she was in utero) and has never really stopped going "crackers" after 10PM. She and my husband share that quality, although I don't. It's made for a lot of sleepless nights for me.
Nauseous, anxious, worried, uncomfortable, exhausted, in pain, in agony, in recovery, in love...
Is it any wonder I want another?
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