I’m starting to understand why people only have two kids.
With David becoming more active and able to fend for himself and Libbie slightly more careful with him, they actually play together. A lot. It’s spectacular.
While they need me to get them food, they generally don’t need me to feed them. I think David might even be done nursing; I can’t remember the last time he asked for “ga-ga” (sniff!).
It’s certainly not what I would call SIMPLE being mother to two under age 4, but it’s not nearly as hard as it was in, say, the first year of David’s life. Everyone sleeps through the night most of the time. Nobody needs bottles made. Only one of them is in diapers. Mostly they want me to read books and play Candy Land, and I’m pretty happy to oblige.
I think for most couples, the decision to have a second child isn’t that hard. We didn’t want an only child. But that push to number three … well, it takes some thinking.
My fear was starting over. Once David got somewhat self-sufficient, it was so hard to think about going back to no sleep, nursing non-stop, and carrying an infant bucket seat. Writing that out makes me feel incredibly selfish, but it’s true. Bouncy seats and jumperoos have been given away or banished to closets. Spit-up is something of the past.
Even though Mr. V and I have always, always talked about having 4 kids, I wasn’t sure I could go back to the beginning again and keep my sanity. Depression keeps me teetering on the edge for much of life. It’s a scary place. I remember the months when David was tiny and I wasn’t sure I could stop crying.
On the other hand … I believe children are blessings, I love babies, and I try to trust my fertility to God. I am not big on taking the Pill – and I haven’t since long before we conceived Libbie. I feel that it messed with my fertility in a major way and I don’t like the idea of synthetic hormones. We’ve been practicing NFP, but with my cycles being a little crazy – and I didn’t even have one until David was 16 months – things are a little wonky.
A few weeks before I found out I was pregnant, I remember driving my car and telling God I was tired of being scared. But if He wanted me to have a #3, He was going to have to make it very clear.
And oh, He did. That pink plus sign was HOT PINK. I was already 6 weeks pregnant when I found out.
So even on the days when I feel like this is the most insane thing I could ever be doing, adding another brother or sister to the mix, to the already-nutso life we lead … I know this baby is meant to be part of our family. I’m sure he or she is going to be the best surprise we’ve ever received.