Time For Round 2?

Here I sit, alone with my wine.

I’ve been pondering an idea for the past several weeks.  The idea, well, of Baby #2.

It’s been on my mind a LOT lately.  And I think that I am struggling a little bit because, well, it’s always hard to actually make a major decision like this one so blatantly.  A baby isn’t a new house, a new job, or where you go to college, it’s, well… a baby!  And I’ve been playing these weird mind games with myself lately.

I want another baby.  Lots of this is simply due to Oatmeal.  I love that man even more since having his baby.  He is a natural as a father.  I mean sure, there are times where – yes – I wish that just once he’d say, “Stay in bed honey, it’s 2am and I know you’re tired, I can hear Poppyseed crying in her nursery and I’ll go check on her.”  Ha.  But overall he is just an incredibly hands on father.  I’ll always remember him looking at Poppyseed on the morning she was born.  He cupped her little back in his hands and rested her weight in his lap, and he looked at her and said, “Well little baby, God knew I needed a girl first.”

I think he really did think that she would be a boy, right up until the moment that she came out!

They bonded immediately.

They bonded immediately.

But of course, there is more to the story than how much I have loved watching him become a father.  I never ever EVER knew how much I would love being a mom.  Ever.

We recently dropped her 10pm feeding.  I read a sleep book that said that I could be disturbing her deep sleep by waking her to “top her off” before I went to bed. So, in a desperate attempt to get her back to sleeping through the night, I stopped waking her at 10pm.  And people, I tell you, I have missed that feeding so much.  I’d wake her to feed her, and afterward she would still be asleep – totally dead weight – and I could just rock her.  Poppyseed was just never much for being rocked to sleep as a little baby.  You pretty much had to let her fall asleep on her own and then pick her up to rock her if you wanted to.  And those 10pm sessions were the best because I could literally just hold her little body on my chest and rock her in the dark.  And they are already over!

She is mobile now, she will be walking soon.   It went by SO fast.  This first year, well it isn’t even over yet, but my gosh, it won’t slow down!

So yes, all cheesiness and mushiness aside, I keep thinking about baby number 2.  In all honesty, I don’t even know if I could have another baby right now if I tried.  P is still taking quite a bit of milk and we only recently started giving her more than a tablespoon of solid food, so my body may still be too busy feeding to even make another kid.  And there is always the fear that I’ll have the same “delays” (for lack of better word) that my mom and sister had with their second babies.  There is a reason that there is an 8 year age gap between my sister and I – my mom miscarried six times after having my sister!  And my big sister, well, it’s so odd because she got pregnant with her firstborn and third born quite easily, but the second one was an uphill battle as well.  (There is a five year age gap between her first and second.)

So, to be honest, sometimes I feel like we should already be “trying” just in case it doesn’t work right away!  My mom and sister were much younger than I am when they started trying for their second kid.   I don’t necessarily feel like I have 5-8 years to work any kinks out the way that they did.  I ain’t getting any younger over here… and I have the gray hairs to prove it.

But let’s be real for a minute.  I do want another baby.  And yes, OVERALL, I did love pregnancy, yes.  But some aspects of growing a baby were just plain hard!  To start off, the morning sickness was all day sickness for about 8 weeks.  I spent an entire plane ride from Key West to Houston in the bathroom.  (No, the stewardesses were not happy with me for that.  Remain seated with your seatbelt on, my ass!)

I was REALLY darn tired sometimes.  I wasn’t able to sleep on my stomach at all.  (Come to think of it – still can’t…darn milk jugs)  I didn’t show until I was in my third trimester, but I still gained the average amount of weight.  This meant that someone at work actually told me (at 5 months pregnant) that she “just thought I hit the Thanksgiving buffet too hard.”

Um, really?  I will always remember that comment.  You thought I just ate too much turkey?  I mean really!?  Who says that!?!!

It got hard to breathe toward the end, and it made it difficult to sleep.  I got a little clumsy.  And the hormones!  Sometimes I really, like really, think that Oatmeal was trying to make me crazy.  (When in fact I think it was probably the opposite.  But c’mon, how dare he not humor me when I wanted to discuss our birth plan for the TWENTIETH time in a day?  Would he not have been a bit intimidated in my shoes?  Really???

And the birth.  Holy hell!  Why did I read all of those books on the benefits of natural birth?  Natural birth is HARD!  The particpants who wrote their birth stories for Ina May’s birth book were full of LIES – pure LIES!  Contractions do not feel like waves – they feel like your uterus is being twisted and lit on fire and then you have to squat and poo.  Oh, you don’t like the way that sounds?  Well I didn’t like the way it felt.  I made noises I didn’t know were feasible when I was 8cm dilated, and I personally do not know how my husband is still attracted to me after all of that squatting and pushing in a teal buttless hospital gown.  Shout out to Big Mama Taylor – that ice diaper was heaven on earth and that is a sad, sad statement.


Mere hours after having P. Someone must have given me a diaper and some motrin, that has to be why I’m smiling like that after being awake for 36 straight hours.  Ice diaper, yep, that’s right.

And the aftermath of the birth – oh dear God!  Other women say “Oh you forget about it quickly and you bounce right back!”  Bounce back?  If it takes 6 months to be able to do a squat at the gym without pain, is that really called bouncing back?  Is it?  I am 9 months postpartum and am absolutely loving the fact that I’m in my high school jeans again, but if I were being truthful I’d tell you that I am still afraid to really squat down all the way at Crossfit.

Not to mention all the breastfeeding madness.  I would rather give birth to triplets naturally than go through that first 2-3 weeks of breastfeeding again.  I am as pro-breastfeeding as they come, in fact I nursed P at Lupe Tortilla today.  I supported her with my left arm and ate a chicken fajita with my right arm, and I managed to stay covered and not let a single person in the room see any boob.  But good God I really did not catch on to the whole breastfeeding thing the way most mothers seemed to.  It was hard, and painful, and while I feel as if I will have a much easier beginning after baby 2, I can’t help but dread the inevitable engorged and leaky first month or two that will surely occur.

And speaking of all that milk business, do I really want to get knocked up again before I even wean P?  Do I really want to go straight from being pregnant, to lactating, to pregnant AND lactating, to just lactating again?  I mean, can you even imagine what kind of support bra I am going to need after a few more rounds of this?

I just realized that I have spent hours and hours and hours with my breast pump in the past year, and yet I have not named it.  I should really name that breast pump.

So I know I just filled a page with all the crappy parts of being a prego or a new mommy.  When really, these are such small prices to pay for a sweet little baby.

I guess I’ll just continue to drink wine and ponder the options.

And drink wine.  While I still can.

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