Just One More Baby?
Living in excess. Is it a personality type? If you find yourself always wanting one more pair of shoes, are you also one to want “just one more” of anything else you enjoy-chips, friends, babies? I, personally, couldn’t give a crap about shoes (yes,there are women out there that aren’t obsessed). Something chocolate? Much harder for me to turn down. And babies? Oh man, don’t get me started! I’m forever wanting just one more baby.
My theory is that if you are a women that has a really hard time walking away from a cookie tray if it has your favorite kind on it, and you’re crazy about babies, you probably have a hard time saying “Last one. For real.” Okay. So my theory is not based on large group studies by any means. It’s a single case study. It’s me. But, I know I’m not the only one with more than a few kids, who finds it coming up in conversation quite often, the wish for another baby to snuggle. Luckily for my worn out body, husband, and most dependable sitter (my own mommy), I am surgically incapable. This actually is a good thing for me, too. I get the urge, know it can’t happen, and blame it on the tubes. I don’t have to concentrate on the fact that I’m older than dirt, not in the best shape, way too tired, and there would be a daddy-shaped hole in the front door if I even asked. It doesn’t stop me from thinking about it, though. A lot.
But, why? Why would I want to get up every hour through the night again? Have someone else own my boobs, feeling like I’m tied to the house, because nursing in public? – not a big deal to me. Chasing after the other kids during a session is not so fun, however. Why prolong my years of diaper changing, clipping finger and toenails, dressing, bathing, getting snotted and barfed and shit on? Having everything revolve around an every two hours nap schedule? For all of the years these things are extended, it doesn’t stop there. It will take more time to escape running around all night to activities, scheduling play dates, and for the love of #@*<, stepping on Legos. It’s that much longer until I can take a nap on a quiet day, eat whatever Jackpot and I agree on for any meal, and only have ourselves to clean up after.
Why? Because I find it just as hard to resist my own offspring as I do a Chick-Fil-A chocolate chip cookie. Actually, harder. I am absolutely addicted to them. I want to smush their cheeks, and give them thousands of kisses and cuddles, and talk to them and hear their sweet voices respond. All before breakfast. I want to feed them, and teach them, and play with them, and learn from them. I love the process of this from day 1. But, you only get one day 1. So, if you’re going to enjoy it all over again, you have to start at the beginning again. When that’s what you want, and you no longer can, it can become a subject that brings on sadness, instead of joy.
What to do? Depends on who you ask. Like-minded, and hearted, people will share stories. This can be very helpful to know you’re not necessarily crazy to be a little sad you can’t have 20 kids. Most people, though, will tell you you’re lucky to have the ones you do, as if you don’t already know that!, and move on. They often will remind you of those not as lucky as yourself, who were never able to have all, if any, of the children they wanted. I am very aware of this reality. On my least hormonal days I have cried for these women, even strangers, hearing their story. When it’s dear friends, the sadness comes with more than a little guilt. Others are very helpful and tell you that you can watch their baby any time. Problem is, while I do find other babies cute, I’m not just a “I need to hold that baby” kind of gal. I want my own schmoopies to nurture, cuddle and love. No offense to your babies. I’m sure they’re great. Just not as good as mine. 😉
So is this just my personality type? My need for more? The thing that makes one Hershey’s kiss, one handful of popcorn, or one beer, just not enough – is it to blame? I honestly think that does have something to do with it. But, not all. There’s something about moving on to the next chapter in your life. Wrapping up the baby-making biz for good forces you to concentrate on all that comes next. For a person who struggles with anxiety issues, this is a major bitch of a prospect standing in front of me. This next chapter in my book involves watching my children grow up, and eventually away from me. Yes, it’s happening whether I have a new baby to hold or not. But, it’s so much more focused now. My empty nest days are coming sooner than if I had kept the baby factory open. This is much harder to face than the idea, let’s say, of no more Chick-Fil-A cookies.
I must adjust. I must become comfortable in my new normal. Because my normal is always crazy enough. And if this blog makes it, and I’m still doing it years from now, the day I post that my last baby has moved out, I expect all of you to send me lots of chocolate. After all, that’s what friends are for.
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