Tag: Life as I know it

That is a question I guess most everyone must answer at some point in his or her life – do I want to have kids, or do I not want to have kids? And if I do, in what way will I begin that process?

It is a very personal and sometimes very private decision. And I know for many it is not always that simple; some who so very badly want children are unable to have their own. It can become a very heart-breaking struggle, and in no way, shape, or form do I want to give the impression that I am making light of anyone who has had to endure such hurdles in building a family. I just want to share a little of my own tale…

Never was I the type of person who thought, oh I can’t wait to be a mom! Not that I definitely didn’t want to – I always assumed that someday I’d probably have kids – but more that it just wasn’t something I really thought about that much. I was always more of the vein, “Oh your kids are really cute, but you can keep them over there with you.” 😉

Even once R and I were married, baby fever never set in like it does for a lot of people. We didn’t really discuss kids either – when we wanted to start having them, if we wanted to start having them, how many, etc. I think we both just figured we’d have them eventually. I knew R wanted kids for sure, but I still wasn’t 100% convinced that being a parent was right for me.

Fortunately we never got the “So when are you going to have a baby?” prodding from either of our families, so I never felt any pressure to hop on that train.

I loved our life as a couple – we could do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted, we could go wherever we pleased, and we could do it all with very little advance notice or planning. We had a ridiculous amount of fun, and it was just the two of us. That was my biggest qualm about having kids – I didn’t want to share R. Oh yeah, I’m selfish, too. 🙂

Then I turned 30.

Ugh.

The big 3-0.

Some people are like I’m 30, woo hoo, let’s par-tay!! I was like I’m 30, barf, I’m old, it’s the worst thing ever. I honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if the world ended on my 30th birthday, that’s how much I was dreading the day.

But it was also a biological turning point. I thought well, I’m 30, if we’re going to try to have kids, we’d better get started because I’m certainly not getting any younger.

I really believe it was not having a 2 to start my age that was the baby catalyst for me. Kind of like oo, 30, that’s very adult-sounding, you’d better have some kids soon if that’s what you want to do. Hmm, typing it out like this makes me sound more like a weirdo than anything, but that’s pretty much what my thought process was.

I was very lucky, too, that R was so chill about the whole thing. Like I said, he’d already revealed that he wanted to have kids, but he never pressured me either. So when I finally decided I was ready and asked him what he thought, I will never forget the sweetest words of his reply: “I’ve just been waiting for you.” ::melt my heart::

And when I told him that the biggest roadblock for me was not wanting to share him and missing having “just us”, he said, “It’ll just be a bigger us.” Well ok, now that you put it that way, it doesn’t sound quite so scary.

And so it began.

Now, I’m the type of person who likes to know exactly what’s going on instead of just leaving things to chance and seeing what happens. So I started tracking everything I could to figure out what my body was doing and how things were shaping up to make this happen. I had gone off the pill about 9 months before we really started “trying” to try to get my body back on its natural track. I was on it for roughly 10 years prior, so I was afraid I’d messed something up on the inside in that length of time.

Fortunately that wasn’t the case, and even though my natural cycles ended up being pretty long, I got pregnant on our second real attempt. D was starting to bake.

Fast forward just under 39 weeks, and we had a baby girl. Yikes!! Now what?

Utter and complete infatuation and love like I’ve never known, that’s what. As soon as we were out of the delivery room and trying to comprehend that we were now a family of 3, that’s when my baby fever set in.

I was in heaven.

It was the craziest thing I’ve ever experienced – in seemingly an instant I was a mom and it felt oh so right. Never in a million years would I have thought I would enjoy this, let alone love it. But I do. D is the most amazing thing we’ve ever done, and R was right – it is just a bigger “us” now.

Now here’s what’s been on my mind a lot lately. How do you know if/when you’re ready for more?

You’ll think I’m nuts, but as soon as D was born I immediately wanted another baby. I just really thrived being a new mommy and knowing that every single thing she needed came from us. That automatically became my #1 job – take care of and protect her.

And these past 7 1/2 months have been awesome. She is a beautiful, hilarious little person, and spending time with her just makes my day that much better. And I know we definitely want more kids, but I’m kind of back to my original question – how can I possibly share D with another child?

Will it be unfair to take time away from her to care for another baby, even though it will obviously be necessary? I certainly won’t ignore her when another one comes, but will she see it that way? Will she feel like Mommy loves the new baby more since that’s the one that will need so much attention at first? How long should we wait before trying for another, and how do we know what age span between the two (or more) we will be able to handle? And how can I possibly love someone else as much as I love this little girl?

I guess I just have to keep remembering that with each child I won’t be losing space in my heart or life for everyone else, I’m just expanding it exponentially for the newcomers. So, god-willing, hopefully we can add a few more to our brood and Mommy will be ok. Well, maybe not a “few” more, but hopefully at least one. 🙂

Stay tuned for D v2.0…

A mother is not a person to lean on but a person to make leaning unnecessary.  ~Dorothy C. Fisher

 

 

As you know, I’m a full-time working mommy. D turned 7 months old yesterday, and I have been back to work since she was just over 3 months. So I’m pretty used to the routine by now.

I was very fortunate, too, because my husband (from now on referred to as R, because it’s easy and I’m lazy :)) was able to take almost 2 months of parental leave when I went back to work so we didn’t have to send D to daycare until she was 5 months old.

Knowing she was home with Daddy made my transition back to the grind MUCH easier than if I had to ship her right off to strangers on the same day I had to return to face my office all hormonal and miserable since my baby had just been ripped from my arms. Well she obviously hadn’t been, but that’s what it felt like. Or would have, had I had to take her to daycare right away. But I digress…

Lately a battle has begun brewing inside me. And no, it’s not that ice cream from last night that caused the hellish dream.

Before I went back to work I wracked my brain trying to think of any way possible to stay home with D. R even conceded that if I could figure out something that would just cover our house payment I could be the stay-at-home parent. Alas, I failed, so back at my desk I sit each day.

Things have been going well too – we’re very happy with our daycare, D loves seeing the teachers, and I no longer feel like I’m about to melt into a puddle of tears each time we drop her off. In fact, we leave smiling every morning because D is so enthusiastic and ready to start the day.

However, I’ve been getting increasingly restless at work. Certain things have been a little off ever since I returned, and I’m just sick of feeling like I’m in a constant struggle. I have worked at this job long enough that everyone knows I’m good at what I do, or else I wouldn’t still be there. So this nagging suspicion that I’m slowly trying to be discredited or even eventually replaced is getting quite annoying. I have been assured numerous times that this is not the case at all, but you know when you get a feeling that you just can’t shake?

That’s where I am right now. How long do I want to stay where I’m uncomfortable? And if I am just being silly and my role is not in jeopardy at all, what has to give before I finally am convinced once and for all? It’s hard because some days are great, and I leave work feeling like all is right in the world. Then the next day I’m right back down in this rut. It gets pretty exhausting.

Another massive roadblock – the paycheck. Yes, it’s nice to have and necessary to continue living where we do currently. But I learned a long time ago that money definitely is not everything.

That’s another thing about my job. I have worked in this field for about a decade now with a short break thrown in for some much-needed and fully-enjoyed play time, and the whole time I have been surrounded by people whose lifeblood consists of how much money they are making, losing, and moving around. That’s just not how I’m wired. I do what needs to be done from the time I walk in the office door until the time I leave, and I do it really well, but when I go home, I go home.

I am a firm believer in leaving work at the office so I can spend time with my family, so when I get the impression that that is frowned upon, I get frustrated.

Without my paycheck though, we’d have to do some serious tweaking of our budget and lifestyle. That part wouldn’t be all that hard – we’re not ballers or wasteful spenders and we already have some good savings underway. But basically all extracurricular activities would have to cease, which I think we would miss more than we realize right now.

I also constantly wonder what effect this choice will have on D.

Will she grow up resenting me for not staying home and spending this precious time with her, or will she respect me for helping R provide for our family so she and any future siblings hopefully don’t have to want for much?

I hate that I have to miss so many hours with her every workday. How many milestones are her daycare teachers getting to witness that I’m missing? I still haven’t seen her roll over yet. But in all honesty, I’m not sure she even does roll; I think she just likes to wiggle around on her stomach until someone pushes a toy within her reach because she’s so cute. 🙂

On the flip side, picking her up each afternoon is wonderful – seeing her face light up when she sees me walk into her room washes away any negativity that may be leftover from work.

Then there are days, too, when I question whether I’d even be a good SAHM. Daycare sends lesson plans home each week for D’s room, and there are activities on there that I know I probably wouldn’t get a chance to do with her each day. How many days would I actually find time to read books, sing songs, play numerous games with multiple toys, finger paint, play with snow, make art projects, and on and on and on? If I’m brutally honest with myself, probably not nearly as many as they do at daycare, which is every day.

So there’s that aspect too. Could I do it right even if I had the opportunity?

So you see, the balancing act between mommy and career girl is tricky and tends to give me fits.

Am I doing a good job? Am I doing a bad job? D seems happy, so I hope I’m doing a good job, but then again, she’s only 7 months old – I could put a dirty rag over my head, pull it off, and shout “Peekaboo!” and she’ll be happy, so that really has no reflection yet on these major life choices I’m making.

I do take solace in the fact that R and I are having fun starting our little family, and our house is full of love, so hopefully that’s a good sign. I just wonder how long I’ll have to walk this tightrope…. I hope I don’t fall off!