No sooner then after writing about Jack's upcoming 2nd birthday did I start getting those pangs. I think many women will know what I'm talking about when I say "post-toddler pangs". Those lingering thoughts about having another baby once you realize that the first is no longer infantile.
Exhibit One- I had a dream a couple nights back about being pregnant again. I was a lot smaller this time around, and apparently through powers of osmosis I knew what I was having despite not having a sonograph. It was another boy, smaller and with black hair. It was Super Bowl Sunday and everyone in the waiting room was eating chips and dip and cheering while I waited for stronger contractions.
When I woke up I started my period. This leads me to believe this wanting, these dreams, are merely my hormones saying "you know, you COULD make a baby again."
Exhibit Two- During a recent trip to Target I walked by the children's clothing section and saw a pink tutu, upon which I looked at Greg and said "I want a little girl." This leads me to believe I'm going batshit crazy.
I DO NOT want another child. At least not right now. I tell myself and others that it's just not going to happen. That I'm soooooooooooooooooooo not ready for a second, especially when I wasn't even remotely ready for the first and that it's a miracle that I even have any maternal instincts.
But somewhere, whether it's in my ovaries or my heart...
Jack and Stella? Jack and Adele? Jack and Alice? Gahhhh...my uterus needs a swift kick in the face.