When I was out with my children the other day I saw a pregnant woman. I see pregnant women a lot, given my line of work, but something about this time was different. The woman was young, fit and smiling; she did not appear uncomfortable in the least. For some reason, though, I thought, "I am so glad I don't have to do that again!" I was immediately taken aback by this thought, as I normally view pregnancy and childbirth with sad nostalgia, remembering only the fun, precious and miraculous aspects. For the past nine-or-so years, I have been either pregnant or wishing I were pregnant, so negative feelings about childbearing (absent any varicose veins or nausea) are foreign to me.
This topic has been on my mind a lot recently, because I cannot decide if I want more children. More accurately, I cannot decide if I SHOULD want more children or not. Both Bryce and I are almost certain we are done, that three healthy girls is great (we have plenty of people in the house without it being too overwhelming) and we don't want to push our luck. Note that I said we are "almost" certain. For most people, that would be an acceptable way to live, being "pretty sure" they don't want more. But I am a incurable planner, constantly thinking to the future, so it is difficult for me to live with "probably." I work better with "yes" or "no." In addition, I have trouble with the concept of "never again," especially for something as wonderful as childbirth, babies and kids in general.
Don't get me wrong, I have not forgotten the drawbacks of pregnancy and newborns; Isadora is, after all, only nine months old! Even in the thick of it, I can still sometimes envision life with one more, and it scares me to think about being done. Forever. NO MORE BABIES. Ever. On the other hand, I am also scared of all of the unknowns that come along with pregnancy-- what if its twins? What if the baby is unhealthy? What if I have traumatic labor? Add that to the anxiety I feel about about protecting the kids I already have, and trying again seems almost inconceivable. We have a trio of beautiful, reasonably healthy, demanding girls, and any more would be too much. We are ready, I think, to move to the next phase of our life. Whatever that is.
I suppose that "next phase" includes sleeping more than 3 hours continuously, and spending alone time with Bryce without having to pay a sitter, and taking trips on actual airplanes, and having a clean(er) house, and writing my blog without a baby on my lap (I am a talented multi-tasker). And going to the bathroom all alone. Sounds pretty blissful when I really think about it. But babies are bliss-inducing, too. Right?
My questions, for those who have come to a final, definitive, stop to their procreating, is do you ever stop wondering about what would have been? Even on those days when your kids make sure to remind you, over and over, that you have much more responsibility than you can handle, and you are longing for just a few minutes of peace, how do you reconcile that you will never again experience the anticipation and joy of bringing a new person into your family? Does that finality scare you? Maybe it's not scary because with each passing moment, you are one step closer to freedom, one step closer to having a life beyond children. Is this alleged life as great as it sounds? Will I wish I could go back?
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