The Fever

My God, I can't believe I am about to post this. Really, I think I may write it and just keep it for myself…but I may become brave and post it, because well…why the eff not. I know I've posted about not wanting to be asked about another baby, how we're not ready and how we're probably going to wait until Eddie is somewhere around two, if we're going to have another one at all. But I have to say it…I just have to get it off of my chest because OH MY GOD I think I'm suffocating from the weight of this.

I want another baby.

I want to be pregnant; I want to feel the kicks, the hiccups. I want that moment when you feel like you are so connected to your body…..when you are so amazed by what you are capable of that you practically burst with joy and radiate light and happiness. I want random people to smile at me….a knowing in their eyes that I am doing something special. I have these thoughts, these beautiful, amazing thoughts that make my body ache…I mean really and truly when I think about being pregnant my body feels…something. And I am slowly and surely convincing myself that yes, yes, I could do it again and I want to do it again and then….my brain kicks in.

How? How would we do it? We have a two bedroom house with a loft. How would I get anything done? How would I give Eddie the attention and the love that he deserves when I'm in the newborn haze? We would have to change our lifestyle…no more dinners out (how would we even do that with two?), no more silly purchases or trips or date nights for Frank and I. We have fallen into such a rhythm with Eddie. And honestly, I like our rhythm. Not to mention that Frank and I have finally gotten back into our rhythm as a couple, one in which conversation isn't forced or boring and a rhythm in which we are finally comfortable to go out again…to enjoy our adult friends or just enjoy each other. It took a year for us to get back to this spot and I am scared at the prospect that it could take that long next time, or worse, longer. I feel like in many ways, wanting another baby is selfish. I think back to the day that I was able to hold a little baby of Frankie's cousin, and Eddie was so mad. He wouldn't give me a kiss or hug, and pushed me away when I tried. He didn't want to share…..why should I force him to? Is it fair? And then the many moms of two that I know will say YOU JUST DO. The second baby will cry a little more than the first, the first will learn to be gentle and you will suddenly be able to fit two little hearts into your own. And it will work. And even as I type this, I am literally getting caught up in my words and feeling that tingle in my stomach and the urge to…well, procreate, and I think it is possible. Then 'NO! NO! It can't be done! You can't do it!' And I honestly don't know how I would deal with that little voice when I was also dealing with those pregnancy hormones that make that little voice scream louder than you could imagine. (*This post was written before yesterday's locking out. Let's add that to the list of yet another reason of why I could NOT handle two babies.)

Does it help that my friend from college just had a baby yesterday, the same day as my cousin in Wisconsin? Nope! It also doesn't help that my cousin in Florida and my cousin in law are both due in January, or that my neighbor is due in a couple weeks, and my other neighbor is due in December. I feel surrounded by these pregnant bellies that make me so freaking jealous. I actually told Frank the other day that our neighbor's belly is going to make my ovaries burst with envy. We actually had an interesting little conversation, Shauna and I….I told her that I wanted the belly and she said that she just wanted what I have…and outside baby. I mentioned how much I loved to be pregnant, how great it was and how awesome I felt and Frank laughed. He asked if I remembered complaining about this and that or how much I hated it towards the end…and I don't. People say that you eventually forget the labor and birth experience, but I think that is a lie. Well….I know that is a lie, because I haven't forgotten. If anything, I've forgotten the last trimester, when I was stuck to the couch and terrified of every cramp and contraction. When I had to carry around pills, had to go to twice a week doctors appointments and more. I remember, but it just seems….worth it. Worth it all. And now there is the voice, talking me down. So, what happens? Does the voice just die down after a while? Does the urge get stronger? Because the limbo I'm in now is so effing frustrating.


Whew. This post is tiring. I'm sure the conversations it will bring will be tiring. But, at least it is out there, floating around the universe and waiting to be snatched up by somewhat that can answer my questions. Right now, I think the right idea is to wait for that other little voice to go away…..right? (ps….just when you think I'm boring, you release my writer's block. Thanks, dad!)