There's a certain level of comfort in knowing that we will not have any more children for the next five years unless we want to. I won't get into the ins and outs (pun intended) of our sex life, but it does make things much more pleasant to know that there is a
pretty much fool proof plan in place preventing any accidents.
Don't get me wrong, we want more kids. Just not right now. When I heard
Jessica Simpson ispregnant again (
already?!) I think my uterus tried to jump out of my body and into oncoming traffic. I am not ready to be pregnant again. Will I ever be ready to willingly take on
those wretched nine months again? Probably. Sleep deprivation erases your memory, Men in Black style.
London is perfect. She is such a wonderful baby, sleeping well and happy to be on the go constantly. Each day she learns new "tricks". Each morning it seems like she's grown up overnight. I don't want to miss a moment of her childhood, I want to BE PRESENT for her every day. So no, we're not ready for two kids. Not for awhile, and I'm happy that medical science has advances that allow us to make the decision not to have more children right now.
But there's also a certain level of sadness that comes with it, for me at least. I had forgotten that part of it, that for all the good things about it, it does feel a bit ... final. And formal. There are no surprises. There is no "lets just see what happens". As much as I know I made the right decision, there is a level of sadness (read: hormones) that I think I underestimated.
But in another nine months, when I'm still sleeping regularly and not vomiting daily, I imagine I'll have forgotten all about that tiny bit of sadness. That "Irish twins" bullshit is for the birds.
Besides, London Claire seems
pret-ty happy to be an only child for awhile longer.
Gosh I love that kid.