Exactly one year ago, I swore I would never have any more kids. The whole c-section thing (x2) was pretty traumatic. The second time around, I'm pretty sure it was mostly in my head. But it was still rough. I remember sitting there in my hospital bed, trying to recover, being in pain, not being able to walk, feeling like death. In that moment, I swore up and down, to the depth of my soul that I would not, could not, ever do it again.
But now...a year later, I don't remember what the pain felt like. I don't remember what the death felt like. I just remember that I felt like death and pain. And that memory in itself is slowly fading, like ink bathed in sunlight. That memory is being swallowed by want. A deeply-rooted want. A want that is completely illogical given that we are already so short of space (4 people in a 950 sq. ft, 2 bedroom, 1 bath home) and money (I will be paying off Ryan's hospital bill for the next two years and I will be paying off my lawschool when the kids go to college!). It is illogical given the fact that I absolutely hate pregnancy. That I just figured out daytime childcare for the two children I already have. That I just started a new job that is becoming more and more demanding.
Despite the complete irrationality, I want another baby. I feel like our family is missing someone. And as I lose my baby to toddlerhood, as his gummy smile becomes overrun with teeth, as his chunky thighs begin to lengthen, as his one-legged shuffle turns into walking, the want is overpowering. It just feels right. It feels like the next step. It feels like the answer to a question I haven't even put into words. It does not make sense in my brain, but in my heart the feeling is infallible.
But it takes two. And so far, my husband is exercising his veto power. He swears we are done. That we can't handle the kids we have. That he have no where to put another baby. We don't have room in our cars. That we cannot afford another hospital bill. That we already have no energy and no time.
I hear what he says. But the words sink lifelessly to the pit of my stomach and settle there uneasily. The logic is not enough to explain away how I feel. To satisfy my need for another person to love. To fulfill my dream of being wrinkled and bent and surrounded in a room bursting full of children. I just keep thinking that there is a life up there, waiting sadly to join us. And a chunk of my heart is wanting desperately to love it.