Sunday, May 16, 2010
Sometimes - like on a sunny evening when everyone is fed and content, and the kids are chasing the dog around the garden and we're enjoying a smooth glass of Cabernet, and everything feels good and right, I think about a third child.
The picture in my head is just ever so slightly romantic: I imagine three kids - perhaps three boys - sitting in a tree house concocting plans, riding bikes to the park, teenagers with appetites so large we'd need to start raising cows and pigs.
And, over-dosing on optimism, I think, that would be SO MUCH FUN!
But then I remember last night, staggering around at 2 am. like a cave woman, grunting from tiredness and spilling milk over the kitchen floor before returning to the nursery with a bottle for my youngest son who still does not sleep through. Occasionally I could swear I hear myself hissing "No. More. Kids.". In fact, J said one night I actually did hiss this (at him) as I rolled back into bed.
And I think, yeah.. there's no way.
And then I look at our two sons and consider how absolutely amazing they are with their blooming characters and their funny words and smiles and kisses and tantrums, and I can't help but wonder what our third child might look like, sound like, be like.
And I think, we could so do this again!
But then I remember how much I love my new work, my school classes, and how, after a long period of house-bound-ness and several winters with a baby and a toddler, I've regained a semblance of independence and something that's mine, again.
And I think, nope, just can't go back there.
And then I'll see a pregnant woman at the market, hand proudly straddling her bump, waddling along in her uber-cute maternity dress. And I think ahhhh..... What a precious feeling that was.
But then I remember - morning sickness, uncomfortableness and childbirth. And sadly, I'm just not one of those childbirth-orgasm types. I'm more the scream-like-you're-being-murdered-by-an-axe-murderer type.
And I think, No. No. No. And also, no.
The thought goes back and forth like a schizophrenic conversation. Finally, I tell myself - we have two healthy boys - what more could one ask for? But the little nagging thought is there. Always there, pestering me. What if?
How do you know when you're done having kids?
Posted by Lady Mama at 8:15 PM