DaMomma’s friend, the Calm Mama contributes the third in a series of guest posts to keep all of you occupied while DaMomma sorts out life as a mother of three. Or, just, like, tries to reassure herself that this is actually the baby they pulled out of her two weeks ago.
We were pretty clear on wanting to have a child — at least clear enough on the day we decided to “try.” The next day we’d chickened out, went back to using barrier method birth control, not yet knowing the deed had already been done.
So, yes, there had been some ambivalence. Before the baby: Are we ready? Can we afford this? Am I really going to do this with YOU? And during the first half of the pregnancy: What have I done to my life? Who am I going to be now?
During the second trimester of gestation, the inevitability truly “kicked” in, and then once the boy was here, we’ve hardly looked back. It’s as if he’s always been with us.
Out and about in the world with a baby, friends, family, and complete strangers frequently ask, even now that he is 16 months old, “Is it your first?”
“Yes,” I’d reply, happily. Something about having people know that I was new to the game made me feel good.
Then, it started to dawn on me as strange. What if he’s not my “first,” but rather my “only”? Doesn’t that make that question rather… presumptuous?
One time, while I was breastfeeding at a party, a woman asked me, “Is he your only?”
I was so surprised.
But for her it was a matter of context. She could tell I was a “mature” (a-hem) new mom. She herself had had a child in her 20s and another in her 40s so to her mind, I could have an adult child or two somewhere as well.
It does tend to be people who know me better who hazard the more direct version of the question, “Will you have another?”
So far, two of my friends from my prenatal swim classes are pregnant again. At least two women from my moms group are actively “trying.”
More than one person has made the rude observation that if I was going to make another go, I’d better hurry up. (Umm… thanks?)
But I’m not sure this time. We have an amazing child. I love motherhood. What I can’t quite picture is putting my soon-to-be 40-year-old body through another pregnancy. What I really can’t picture is us as a family of four. I can’t SEE it yet. I had such a strong sense of Jonah’s impending arrival — in the months leading up to the pregnancy, and especially during that second half of it. I felt like I was literally doing his bidding (or someone’s anyway) by bringing him into the world.
My husband Scott was an only child who eventually had to deal with step-siblings. He frames the question in terms of resources. He imagines Jonah would be happier not having to share time, energy, toys, space. Though he recently admitted that he does wonder if it would be irresponsible not to give Jonah a sibling as companion with whom to travel through this lifetime.
I have a sister and cannot imagine wanting to trade her in for more stuff growing up or more of my parents’ time and attention. I am extremely grateful for all sorts of reasons that I have her, including being glad she’s on my team when our parents behave a little crazy (as some parents do, but of course we never will, right?).
Recently, over the dinner celebrating our third anniversary, my husband and I began discussing the topic again. Scott ran his resources argument past me and suddenly I realized that it wasn’t resources between siblings that bothered me, it was MY resources. I’m feeling selfish about having two because I’m afraid of how much more of me I’d have to share.
I have this feeling, wrongly or not, that becoming a mother has changed the opportunities I will have in this next half of my life. For example, things like travel, and being a theater artist, both which I did a lot (and I thought, enough) before, seem impossible now; at least for the foreseeable future.
Even the mundane task of trying to find and do more work to help support our family is hampered by motherhood. And yet, I’m surprised at how hampered I feel. We could get full-time childcare and send me out into the world, but I do not want to to leave Jonah for the number of hours required to work more. I’d rather reduce my budget and continue with the short-term, part-time work-at-home gigs that have filtered in thus far.
The decision to increase our brood is also being colored by larger scale financial issues. Scott is about to be laid off. Our future is uncertain. Will we have to sell our house? Move to another city? Change careers?
We could make this parenthood leap once, deciding things will just work out somehow. Especially two years ago, when we were more optimistic (or deluded) about our situation. But today, with the economy reducing our stock-market-based nest egg and limiting job opportunities, it’s a lot harder to imagine voluntarily taking myself out with a second pregnancy and infant.
The other thing is, I’m really enjoying being a mother of one. I like my life right now. I like our day-to-day activities. I like getting sleep. I’m looking forward to getting my body back as we are making our way towards weaning. And I like our around 40-ish parents-of-one-kid friends. We are having fun. We three fit in this house, with each other. Four is an unknown.
There are many choices we could make, many directions we could go from here. Although, since I am as old as I am, some roads may soon be closed.
For now, I wait. I wait for that feeling to grip me again. The way the idea of having a child took over and lay under my thoughts the first time until I had to say it out loud, and have my actions speak even louder.
*Said by Kevin Bacon’s character in Animal House, after each time he is spanked with a paddle, during a fraternity initiation ritual.
