DISCLAIMER: I’m only baby crazy. I am not having a baby any time soon. You can breathe easy again, Mom.
In October, I did my favourite thing ever and stuck my feet in a set of stirrups in a gynaecologist’s office and then I had a little polyurethane plastic popped into my uterus (yay). I’m not sure if my Mirena insertion was the trigger, but all of a sudden I started wondering if I wanted more kids. Maybe it’s because my son Finn turned five last month. Or maybe I’m just realizing that I’m getting closer to 30 and I’m still mostly single. Whatever the cause, the debate of “Do I or don’t I?” has been raging on in my head to the tune of sleepless nights, and a total of seven pounds lost since Christmas.
The hockey coach I’ve been seeing for the last 18 months? He’s not sure he wants kids. Am I?
I always kind of knew that single parenthood wasn’t going to be all sunshine and roses, but I’d be lying if I said it isn’t a daily – heck, an hourly – challenge. And I have one, largely independent, bright and all-around pretty good kid (except when it’s time to leave the park, that is) who picks up his socks and gets his own snacks and holds the door for me and actually sorts the laundry. Even if I had a second, absolutely identical child it would be an enormous struggle just because two. Double the stuff. Double the everything. And, as far as I can remember, babies don’t start out as largely independent, bright and all-around good five year olds. They start out as screaming, always-hungry poop machines (made of adorable squish).
And I want one.
Maybe. Maybe some day.
But, in like 10 years, before I’m 40… I’ll have a teenager who can be left home alone. I’ve already got a fairly successful career. Is Mr Hockey Coach right – did I do “do it right”, having a baby young and having my “real” adulthood free of diapers? What if I want diapers?
Sigh. Maybe I’ll just get some sea monkeys and wait it out until I get my money’s (and pain’s) worth out of Mirena.
Image credit to Pixabay and Flickr user.