So it’s no secret that John and I have a child. One son. I have a son. (I heart saying this, so sorry for the repetition.) I pretty much dig him, enough that I stay home and stare at him all day long. Ok, so maybe I play with him and read to him and watch Noggin with him and feed him and go on walks with him and change him and cuddle him and try to teach him to be a decent human being. Anyways…he is so amazing and time-consuming that I am currently postponing (not indefinitely) my masters degree and an amazing career to be his stay at home mom. It’s a pretty good job.
Good enough that John and I recently started talking about when to have another baby.
When I got married I said, “We’ll wait a year to have a baby.” We have now been married for almost two years (in September) and have a 9 month old baby. For our little family, having a baby is a decision between the two of us and God. We take that pretty seriously. Although we went through all the practical considerations of “Are we ready? Can we afford this? Can we handle it?” none of that mattered, because we just felt deep down inside that pregnancy prevention was not for us. So I was 8 months pregnant on our first anniversary.
Cut to now, when I once again start to wonder, “Is it time?” We’re living with my Mom and Dad, doing the husband working/in grad school thing, not really all that established in any way shape or form. If I had another baby, it could definitely delay the grad school thing for me even more, but at the same time I’d be DONE with babyness in a couple of years and not have to interrupt school again for quite some time…either until we decided that 2 was not enough or decided to adopt.
Then there is my health, still precarious. I’m even experiencing a bit of a flair-up this week, almost as if my body is telling me, “Remember how sick pregnancy made you???” And the fact that even on the best of days, my son tires me out completely. Totally.
Then there is the dread. The dread of no sleep at all, trying to decide between whose diaper need changed the worst, who needs to be held more when they’re both crying, who has to get up in the middle of the night to do whatever needs to be done for one and then the other. It’s pretty overwhelming. I’ve read a MILLION things these past few weeks about how to choose the space between siblings. I’ve thought about the siblings I know and how they interact with each other, their parents, and the world. Some say space is great, you have two babies that you get to cuddle and love. Others say have them all in quick succession, if you can handle the “intensity” there’s a great payoff at the end.
I’ve obsessed, to say the least, over whether or not it’s time to have another baby.
And you know what? Again, none of that matters. The scholarly articles about the psychology of children in different age brackets or the puff piece in Parenting magazine explaining what it’s like to nurse while going to the bathroom AND saving your 2 year old from drowning in the bathtub…the scouring of blogs of Moms with kids 3 or more years apart wondering if they’ll be close friends or if my academic life would survive such a long stint in Mommy-hood. Wondering if it’s best to have another baby now, with family so close by in case I’m sick again, or even well and just SO TIRED. Because I love having my wonderful supportive parents nearby. Because they are a good Lala and Poppop.
Even with all that said, we’ve made no decisions about anything. I’m coming to realize that we’ll just know when it’s time. Just like we knew with Camper. When we found out we were pregnant (a surprise, that’s for sure) we knew that it was the right time for us, that everything would be just fine. When we decided to stop birth control we didn’t know if I’d get pregnant the next day or the next year, if at all. But we did, and it was PERFECT for our little family.
So I guess what I’m TRYING to say is that I just need to trust that God who let me know what to do before. He’ll let me know again. And until then, Mirena it is.
Oh, and I did take a pregnancy test in Big Y today. We stopped in there to find my Gorton’s Fishermans and some chocolate chunks (why o why do we have to travel to find the foods that we love?) and I was SO NASEUS that I was going to drive us ALL crazy wondering until I just KNEW. Mirena and all, we convince ourselves of crazy things sometimes. I felt very Juno. Except that I’m 26, and the only adoption that’ll go on in the future will hopefully add more children to our family, and my husband and baby were waiting outside the bathroom door. And I’ve never met Jennifer Garner. Anyway. Good times.
