“People are going to start pressuring you to have another baby, but don’t rush into anything. Two is way tougher than one.”
My sister-in-law shared those wise words of advice with me during one of the few quiet moments we had together at Christmas. She’s got two girls, born just two years apart, so she knows what she’s talking about.
Truth is, I don’t know if I’ll have another baby. After all, I’m not getting any younger. And as much as I love Tori, she’s a heck of a lot of work. Right now, she demands my attention almost constantly. In fact, if I walk out of the room she’s in, she almost always crawls right after me, crying ”mamamamama.”
I simply can’t imagine juggling the needs of two munchkins at once. How is it possible?
Plus, there’s the money issue. Sure, we have all the gear now, but there’s still daycare to think about. We’d need a bigger car, for sure. We’d also lose our guest room, so we’d have to buy a sleeper sofa. And then there’s college. With my luck, they’d both want to go to expensive liberal arts schools that I’d have to re-mortgage my house to afford (hi mom!).
But then, as I hold her sleepy body in my arms, my heart flips. She’s brought so much joy into our lives. How could we not have another one?
Reading things like this, and seeing pictures like these don’t help matters. To tell the truth, they kind of make my uterus hurt.
But, oh, the work. The not sleeping for months and months and months. The aching joints and constant indigestion and leaking boobs and eight-week C-section recovery and year-long post-pregnancy diet and, and, and…
Yeah. I’m not going to rush into anything.
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