I may have said this before, I can't remember, so I'm going to go on as if I haven't. Here goes: I am scared of having another kid. It is the same kind of scared I had when deciding to have Ro. The decision to get pregnant went like this:
We're not ready.
What does "ready" mean?
Do we have enough money?
How much money is enough?
Are we ready to give up our twosome-ness?
What if I resent the baby for taking up all my time?That last one was my own, all the rest were shared with Ethan. Eventually, as I assume you've derived, we decided to go for it. The thinking was that "ready" might never happen. We would find ourselves graying and finally saying, "We're ready!". Oops, too late.
So here I am, thinking the same exact thoughts about Rosanna's possible sibling. The difference is that in the previous scenario, I knew I had to have a baby of my own. Today's scenario finds the previous statement fulfilled. I don't have to have another baby. I am supremely happy with my one. I could live on feeling my motherly urges satisfied. However, we always said that we at least wanted two. We always said that siblings were important to us. Not only that, but we wanted the two of our children to be close in age so that they could be playmates and confidants. This looked like me getting pregnant when child number one had their first birthday. A quick look at a calendar confirms that said time line will require a pregnancy in the near, near future.
So here we are. It's not that I don't wanna be pregnant, I thought it was quite the magical time in my life (with the exception of early nausea). The fate of my current miracle is what troubles me. I love what we have going on here (these are the same words I said to my husband before we conceived) and I don't want to resent the new baby for messing it up (hmm, sounds familiar). I don't want my relationship with my daughter to suffer because I have to split my time tending a newborn. And what of my "2nd child" theory? It goes something like this: #2 doesn't get the undivided attention like #1 had (and how could he/she? It wouldn't be possible) so #2 causes 'problems' in their life. For example, they are difficult, troublemakers and act out as a result of their #2 status. This is no one's fault, a single child is the recipient of all the parents' attentions, two children can only occupy parents' attention as long as the other one is willing to be still. It a rough draft of a theory, and I would say that I am full of crap, except I can think of plenty of examples.
I want to wrap this up with a final thought. Having another kid also ups my chances for heartache. It's a subject I can't think about with out tears streaming down my face. Upon seeing my baby's face for the first time I was overwhelmed with fierce love simultaneous with "what have I done?". The "what have I done?" part refers to the realization that I couldn't live without her. That if I hadn't had her in my life, I wouldn't have so much to lose. More children=more to lose (don't get me wrong, I'm not lost on the fact that they ADD so much).
So I implore you, what are your thoughts on additional children? What is your honest experience? I don't promise to follow your advice, and I would love to hear your perspective (especially if you are the parent of 2+).
In the mean time, here is my #1 girl