Last month I confessed to Husband that I suspected some secret, dormant part of my heart might possibly want to have another baby.
What in the actual world.
Any of you who know me at all know that since our last child was born 6 years ago we’ve been decidedly done with the human making business. Not because we don’t make good ones (we do) but because our family felt complete. Also because colic and acid reflux are the devil’s party favors for new parents. Ask me how I know.
In retrospect, I chalk this sudden baby fever up to a perfect storm of hormones, milestones, and a momentary lapse in judgement.
I was nearing my lady-time of the month so needless to say, all the feelings were in abundance. It didn’t help that every time I turned on the television I saw one of those diaper commercials with all the sleeping babies. Suddenly I was having a literal, physical reaction to those sleeping babies. It was a feeling somewhere between craving, longing, and dejavu. I felt it in my chest and in my tear-ducts.
It was also my daughter’s 9th birthday. The last year of single digits. She’s now almost as tall as me. This year she learned the truth about Santa and the Tooth Fairy. All at once everything seems to be accelerating and the nuances of her littleness are slipping away faster than I can mentally document them. Puberty, sex talks, and social pressures loom ahead of us but for now I just want to paint her nails and brush her hair and pretend like this part will last forever.
I’ve entered an unfamiliar new season of motherhood this year, with my youngest joining the ranks of elementary schoolers. For the last 9 years a good portion of my day (read: my identity) has been wrapped up in caring for our small children. Now those small children are strapping on backpacks and going off to their own lives for 6 hours a day. It’s all very grown up and liberating and scary as hell.
Another big factor of my baby confusion was undeniably due to the fact that a number of my friends recently turned up pregnant with their 3rd child. I’ve never once in the last 6 years wanted to have another baby. Why now all of a sudden? Were those diaper commercials just getting to me or was this some ridiculous case of FOMO?
Either way, when I told him about it, Husband dutifully brought me back down to earth. He reminded me about the scary, dangerous deliveries and about the private hell of caring for a colicky baby. He reminded me that while we poured our heart and souls into that season, we are currently pouring our heart and souls into a different season of parenting. He reminded me that we’ve never taken adoption off the table and that maybe we should consider it. Which gave us a lot of unsorted feelings.
We decided to wait on all of it, pray, and see where the feelings went. It turns out that where they went was away. A week later all of my baby urges were completely gone.
*Deadpans to camara*
It’s pretty clear, what happened next, since we are obviously two responsible adults who know better than to act impulsively based on emotion.
We got a puppy instead.
So yah. Meet Bandit.
We are now a two-dog family.
Someone call the therapist.