As the months progress and I watch my second born grow, I’m realizing how fast time flies. She’s starting to be more alert and smile more. Before I know it, she’ll be holding her head up on her own and then from there she’ll learn to roll over and crawl and then walk and talk. My first born is already forming full sentences and learning new things every day. It’s a bittersweet feeling. Whenever I see pictures of my first born little, I can remember the time and how the days went. I can remember watching her grow. I just never realized that it actually happened so quickly. My second born isn’t even 6 months old yet. She’s almost 4 months old though, so 6 isn’t far behind. Even though she’s still a baby, I’m wishing the newness of her wasn’t passing by go quickly. She just recently stopped waking up every 3 hours at night. Sometimes she sleeps through the night. Sometimes she wakes up once or twice. She’s growing. She’s becoming older and it makes me sad.
It literally feels like the NICU days were just yesterday. I remember her birth. I remember my stay and her stay in the hospital. I remember the trips to the hospital. I remember knowing that it was best for her there but hating I had to be so far away. I remember feeling like a crappy mom because she wasn’t home with me. I remember everything so vividly. How the week went leading up to her coming into this world way to early. I remember being scared the night before I had her. My biggest fear was having to have a C-Section and I thank god every day that I didn’t have too. I remember all this like it just happened yesterday. But it didn’t. Soon, she’ll be 4 months old. And then so on and so forth. Before I know it, she’ll be a year old. And all I’ll have are the memories of all this. It makes me sad because she’ll be the last baby I have. Don’t get me wrong, I want more babies. I always pictured myself with at least 3. 2 girls, 1 boy or 1 girl and 2 boys. I’ll never have that though. Just because I WANT another baby doesn’t mean that I’ll HAVE another baby. As much as I’m not ready to be done, my brain tells me that I should be.
My heart breaks at the thought of being done though. If I knew she was absolutely going to be the last baby I had, I would have done things differently during my pregnancy. I would have taken those monthly pictures. I would have painted my stomach for Halloween. Or just took more pregnancy pictures in general. But that stuff didn’t happen because I found myself with no time. I found myself constantly busy raising my toddler. And I always thought to myself that I’d have at least once more, especially once I found out she was a girl. I love everything about my daughter but I also wanted my chance at a boy. And thinking about that boy just makes me yearn so much more for another baby. I was told by my gynecologist that I could have kids but they’d make me take a shot. It was offered during this pregnancy but I opted out since my first born wasn’t crazy early. But my brain can’t stop thinking about the “What ifs..”
“What if I took the shots and the baby was full term? Would my body be able to handle it? Would I be able to deliver naturally like my other too?”
“What if I needed a C-Section? I hear they’re very painful and the recovery time is longer than a vaginal delivery. How would I take care of two children while being in pain? Who would help me take care of myself? How many days would I want to cry because of the pain?”
“What if, even with the shots, the baby was born prematurely? How prematurely would it be born? Would it be born at the 36 week mark like my first born and be fine to come home? Would it be born like my second and have to stay at the hospital until she was cleared to go home? If born too premature, who would take care of my two other children while in the hospital? Could I handle leaving another child until it was well enough to come home? What if it was born way to premature and only weighed a pound when it was born? What if it had to stay longer than 12 days? How would I be able to afford that?”
“What if I took the shots? What if they didn’t work? What if I had a reaction to them?”
All the what ifs and hows and whys. They drive me insane. I yearn to have another baby. I don’t want to be done having children. I wanted three. I wanted a somewhat big family. I want to keep raising my children because it’s such an amazing family. Being a mother is something I’m good at. Something I feel like I was born to do. Watching my children grow and learn and become their own person is such an amazing feeling, especially because I’m a Stay at Home Mom. I can take credit for everything that they learned because I’m the one teaching them. When they become potty trained or learn a letter or their name or how to count, I can say “I did that. That’s because of me.” And that’s an incredible feeling. Being a parent is such a demanding job and even though it has it’s bad moments, I wouldn’t trade them for the world. I love being a mom and I’d love to have a third child. But just because it’s something that I want doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s going to happen. Because in my brain, I know it’s not plausible to have another one. And that truly breaks my heart.