Tuesday, November 13, 2007


I was absolutely positive that I didn't want any more children after I had Rugrat. Rugrat is more than enough for me to handle, thankyouverymuch. And I have an almost-stepdaughter now, who is a wonderful new part of my family. But when Mr Wonderful offered to have a vasectomy, I told him to wait. Why? I don't know. Because I'm still in my early thirties (OK, mid-thirties) and there is plenty of time for me to change my mind. But I was still sure that I didn't really want to have one...I just wanted to have the option available. Does that make sense?

And then the other day, at Mr Wonderful's parents' house, he was joking with me, trying to cheer me up about some little thing that I was in a funk about (probably work calling me and needing something while I was ON VACATION). And he lay down next to me and talked into my belly. And I felt something like a cramp of desire to be pregnant. Because when I was pregnant last time I didn't have that, that supportive loving dad who was all excited about the baby. It almost made me cry, when he did that, and to be honest I'm crying on my couch right now, just thinking about it. Of course that's mostly because I am hormonal and on my period, but...still. It was hard, not to just tell him right then and there that I wanted this more than anything else in the world. But I had to wait, I had to really think about it, and I know that really, I don't want another child. I don't. Being a parent is a huge responsibility, and we're halfway to having the kids out of the house at this point. Getting pregnant again would mean starting all over. And with the sleep deprivation and the dirty diapers and the miserable pregnancy shit...no. I don't really want it.

But it's all I can think about right now. So let's just fucking get past this stupid hormone surge, shall we? I don't want any more kids. I told Mr Wonderful that he can't do that belly-talking thing any more, because it makes me wish I was pregnant. And part of me was really, really sad at having to tell him that. And part of me wants to tell him that we should just throw out the birth control pills when we get married. But another part of me, the larger, saner part, knows that I will get past this weird baby fever and that I really, really DON'T want another baby. Even though he said he would totally talk into my belly if I were pregnant, and put headphones on my belly to play cool music for the baby, and all that supportive daddy-to-be stuff. Oh god, I don't really want another baby. I don't.

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