Last weekend, I visited a longtime friend and mother of two. We have been friends since 1st grade and throughout all of life's many twists and turns, we have always kept in touch. Her oldest son is 5 months older than my one-and-only daughter and part of the reason for this recent visit was to meet her new addition, son number two. He's almost 5 months old. We are nearing... GULP... 40.
My daughter is 3-1/2 now. Even though we all know 3yo's are CRAZY, irrational little Nazi's, she's not a baby anymore. I am not a baby person and it has been a relief having her at an age where she's finally "easier". She's potty trained, she can put food in her own mouth, she can play independently for quite a while and most importantly, she sleeps about 11 straight hours every night, takes a 1-3 hour nap in the afternoons and attends preschool every Mon-Fri morning. WOOT!
|One of the photos that help me remember the good ol' baby days. Not.|
Wait, I take that back MOST importantly, I have my body back to myself. I'm not super vain about the appearance of my body. I work pretty hard to keep in shape but I don't kill myself and I don't strive for physical perfection. I leave that madness to the rest of the freaks here in L.A. I'm a comedian. But the 4th degree tear, the post-partum depression, the leaking breasts (Yes, I was like a dripping faucet. Well, two dripping faucets.) are all but a faint memory now and for some reason, I'm having a hard time deciding to let it go and move forward with life. Until... last weekend. Remember? I went to visit my friend.
Her baby was adorable. Her older son was adorable. She's a terrific mom. The baby barely cried for just a few minutes before his nap. It was all pretty easy-peasy-Japanesey, but hanging out with an infant and a preschooler for just a couple hours was the nail in the coffin for me. It made me realize I do NOT want to have another child.
As much as I would love to give my guy a biological offspring to toss in the air and hang out with and as much as I would love for my daughter to grow up with a sibling, I really don't want to gestate it, give birth to it and then raise it! ACK!
It's not such a big deal, right? Lots of people are choosing to have only one child nowadays. It makes economic sense and for me, I think it's my last chance of reclaiming my sanity. So is this my body's biological clock making a last ditch effort to do it's thing? Is my hormonal urge to reproduce really that strong? After examining these hard questions I realized the answers were NO! I was questioning my one-child decision because I felt sorry for my boyfriend and my daughter. Ai yi yi. This could turn into an entirely different blog all together now. Lutheran guilt syndrome or let's talk about why I take better care of everyone else than myself. I even feed the dog and take her out to poop and pee while my breakfast gets cold. Every damn morning. Apparently, I care WAY too much about other peoples' (and animals') feelings sometimes.
Yes, I was feeling bad that maybe THEY would be missing out on something magical and no doubt, if we did have a baby, it would be awesome and we would love it and, eventually, we would be so happy, blah blah blah. But the bottom line is, I don't want to do it. And, BTW, I don't want to adopt either. One is enough. More than enough and I'm going to stop beating myself up about it. Time to focus a little more on myself, my career and being the best mom I can be to the kid I already have. Starting right... NOW!