Are we ‘one and done’? by Cloudy with a Chance of Wine

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Are we ‘one and done’?

by Dani Ryan of Cloudy with a Chance of Wine

Are we 'one and done'? by Cloudy with a Chance of Wine

A few weeks ago, while my husband and I were standing over our kitchen sink gorging on leftover Betty Crocker cupcakes from our daughter’s second birthday, I started to get that feeling again.

That “are we going to have another baby?” feeling that has accompanied the tick-tick-ticking of my biological clock every 28-34 days for the last 12 months.

The thing is, I always assumed we would have 2 children. It just seemed like a no-brainer to me. My husband and I both have older sisters, and while my husband has never been particularly close to his, I’ve always had a sense of peace about me knowing there’s another human being in this world, other than my Mum and Dad, who knows me in ways my husband and daughter never will.

But now that we’ve actually reached the “now or never” point in our lives, the choice no longer seems as easy to me. I’m no longer that naive, well-rested woman whose body has yet to be stretched to epic proportions and tainted by things like second degree tears, cracked nipples, and the effects of colic.

I know too much.

And I worry I won’t be able to hack it again.

Here are 10 reasons why:

1. I suck at being pregnant. The only parts I sailed through were the eating and complaining parts. The rest is a blur of morning sickness, heartburn, sleepless nights, and hip pain.

2. My nether regions resemble something out of a science fiction movie. And there aren’t enough kegels in the world that can fix the damage one child has done, let alone 2.

3. I’m already exhausted. The first time, I had the option of sleeping when the baby slept (does anyone actually do that?), but I’m fairly certain this wouldn’t be even remotely feasible with “The Tasmanian Devil” running around everyday.

4. I’m an emotional basket-case as it is. And since my husband has a hard enough time dealing with my PMS every 28-34 days, I’m not sure he would survive another year of me wallowing in postpartum misery.

5. I’d have to give up wine. What if all of the wineries dried up?

6. Breastfeeding is not my thing. But since I’m a total pushover with anyone under the age of 40, and allowed my daughter to use me as a human pacifier (and cow) for 11+ months, you better believe I’d guilt myself into doing it for at least that long with another baby, regardless of how isolated and depressed it made me feel.

7. I will be taken away in a strait jacket if I have to sleep train another child. Don’t believe me? Ask my husband.

8. We’d have to buy a house and move to the suburbs. And if my postpartum misery didn’t kill my husband first, that sure as hell would.

9. My husband works too much. I know this is completely irrelevant, but I needed to find at least one way to shift the blame on him.

10. I’m not good with change. Life with the 3 of us is easy, uncomplicated, and FUN right now, and the thought of shaking things up scares the snot out of me.

Of course, I’m far enough along on this crazy ride called Motherhood to know the stuff I listed above is both trivial and temporary, and that for every negative, there are at least 5,345 positives. Like the moment the doctor yells, “it’s a girl!” and you hear your child cry for the very first time; the unconditional love you feel the minute you lay eyes on her; the first time you see her smile, hear her giggle, and watch her take her first steps; the sound of her voice when she says “mama!”; the smell of her hair when she’s fresh out of a bath; the look of pure joy that washes over her face the moment she lays eyes on you in the morning; the effects breastfeeding has on your waistline . . .

So? Are we ‘one and done’?

Beats the hell out of me.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pour myself a glass of white in hopes I can drown out the sound of my uterus crying . . .

ABOUT DANI: Dani Ryan is the mom of one beautiful girl who has already developed a love for iPhones and Coach purses. About 3 years ago, she traded in her business suits and nylons for yoga pants and stained tee-shirts. She now spends her days reading Sandra Boynton books and wiping food off the kitchen floor, and has a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. In her free time, she writes about parenting and general nothingness on her humor blog, Cloudy, With a Chance of Wine. She’s can also be found on Twitter, Facebook, and Pinterest.