Back. And forth.

I’m just so back and forth on all of this. All Of This being having another child. There are days, weeks even, when I want to have another right now. But there are far, far more weeks when I don’t want to now, but later definitely. And then there are equal weeks when I don’t want another at all. So I’m back and forth. A lot. To have another or not to have another. That’s the real question, friends.

The whys in favor of adding another babe to the brood are easy. I want Max to have a sibling. I mean, that one’s pretty huge right there. Huge. Then there’s the standard reasons. The getting to make another human that you love THIS much is pretty fucking fantastic. A bigger family means more fun in the long run after you’re out of the sometimes soul-sucking mire of early babyhood. I’d love to have one of each and though that’s not guaranteed, it’d be fun to try and possibly succeed. There’s more, of course. I mean, there are just so many good reasons to add one more.

But then there are some pretty compelling – for me, for US – reasons not to, as well. The main one? My family feels complete. Right now. As is. We are very much the type of couple that would do one child fantastically. We’ve always known that this would be a strong possibility and we liked it. And then there’s that Max is finally turning into this little boy person who is fun and I want to enjoy him for longer before he has to be multitasked with the needs of a new baby. Then there’s that Max is, well, he’s a handful. The energy on this kid is astounding and my goodness does he need parental attention. We did not get an ‘easy’ one. No, sir. I mean, he’s fucking awesome, but damn if we’re not worn the hell out. The thought of adding on another to this chaos makes me want to cry a little.

There’s a lot more there. On each side. Little intangibles, bigger factors, etc. but you know, I’m just back and forth, like I said. Torn. I truly don’t know if I want another child. Ever. That sounds so final, but you know, there it is. I’m not “made for motherhood”. It’s not my be all, end all. It’s not how I define myself. That’s not to say I’m not good at it though. I sincerely believe that I am a great mom to my son, but, well… It’s hard to explain. He is my whole heart, but he’s not my everything. I just never felt like, ‘ohhhh. THIS is what I was born to do!’. I am so very, very happy with him and how my life and my little family are,but it isn’t this perfect, magical puzzle piece that slid right in and all of a sudden life made sense. It was more that this really awesome thing happened, this amazing person came to be and, oh, how i love him but it’s been really fucking hard in a lot of ways and you sacrifice parts of yourself and its worth it but its still big sacrifice. It’s not all puppies and rainbows and I have zero interest in pretending it is.

But that’s a little bit of a tangent right there, huh?

I don’t know. I don’t know if we’ll have another. Two of my closest friends who have kids Max’s age are newly pregnant with their second and that really got me up and into “let’s try again!” mode. As it would be so much fun to be preggers with my friends and have babes that are close in age, now times two. But, man, I’m so torn. I would love, love another. But some days I really wouldn’t.

It’s a hard decision to make, yo.