2 a.m.
Wednesday, November 25th, 20092 a.m. is never a good time to write a blog post. But I can’t sleep, and have the urge to write. So here we are.
I’m sitting here with my two boxes — Abigail and Jack — and wondering what I’m supposed to do. I’m stuck. My body very much wants to never be pregnant ever again. My heart very much wants another baby. My mind just can’t make sense of it all. And so, I wait, undecided, unable to move forward because I don’t know which path to take. In any other situation I’d let the fates take me where they may, but I’m fairly sure in this situation it’s not the fates talking, it’s just biology, and biology doesn’t have feelings.
There are more reasons than I can count to not have another baby. For one, I just never envisioned our family with more than two children. My body is not in great shape, my back hurts a lot, I am overweight, and I don’t want to do any more shots. I doubt, at this point, that pregnancy really poses any serious risk to my health, at least in the blood clot department, but there’s still the possibility that you can’t ignore.
I want to move on. I love my children but kids can be a pain in the ass. I’m looking forward to a life with no more diapers, no more breastfeeding, and while I’m sure the tantrums aren’t done, I do appreciate the use of words. I look forward to more time to craft, to doing more elaborate things with the kids, to trips, and discussions, and sharing movies and books. I like the idea of older kids. I’m not so enamoured with the daily rigors of a newborn. I feel more like myself now than I have in at least five years and it’s hard to give that up for another three or four years. I might even get a job one of these days.
And yet. I sit with my boxes and wonder. I’d get to revisit all those things I thought I’d never see again. First smiles, favorite clothes, belly laughs.. another chance at all the wonderfulness that is a baby. Pure adoration. Nobody loves you like your baby loves you. My oldest would adore a baby, and there’s nothing like seeing your children grin at each other. Truth: I expected to have another baby and I want what I’ve lost.
I wonder at how unfair life can be. I fear what could possibly be next if we did try again. Could we tolerate yet another loss? Are we fighting a losing battle? Should we cut our losses and run? Nevermind all of the run-of-the-mill things parents get to worry about with illness and birth defects. I was naive enough with Jack to think that nothing could go wrong, because it just couldn’t after what happened last time. And now I know never to think that way ever again. Sometimes I’m amazed I can make it through the day just knowing how things can go wrong in a mere second, how life can change, hell, life can just end. I’m almost constantly aware that I should be living every second for what it’s worth, but that’s so exhausting I can’t summon the effort.
So we wait in limbo for our minds to decide, for our hurt to heal, for our hearts let go. The fact is I’m not sure I want another baby, I think I just want Jack. But I can’t have Jack. So I hold a box. And wait.


