I thought it would be different this time.
I thought I was prepared.
I had doubts, sure. I started worrying as soon as I knew I was pregnant. But I reassured myself, and David reassured me.
In some ways, I prepared well. I was careful to stay on my anti-depressants. I said ahead of time – I would only breastfeed if it wasn’t torturous like it was the first time around. I took three months of maternity leave, instead of 6 weeks.
And many things have gone more smoothly with this second child. Labor was fairly easy, as was recovery. Dez has been a pretty easy-going baby. Breastfeeding hasn’t been nearly as horrid as it was the first time.
But I’m still me; I don’t function well on inconsistent sleep, and I haven’t slept a full night since early pregnancy. I still have a sharp limit on amount of physical touch I can handle – and that is far surpassed on a daily basis (and all.night.long) by a clingy toddler.
I still give everything to those I love and forget about myself until I’m depleted and just going through the motions. And thus I no longer make time to craft or read or hang out with friends without a child to care for at the same time.
Look at how long I’ve gone without writing!
A few months ago, I changed jobs. I left a decade+ long career as an executive assistant (aka taking care of grown men) because I felt like I could no longer take care of people all day and then go home and take care of my family, too. Some people can do that (nurses!), but my tolerance for that type of work withered during Jack’s treatment. So now I am starting all over at the bottom with a new career and I enjoy it much more (minus the lower salary), but I feel like I’m still in the negative on my caregiving stores.
So, my kids aren’t bathed enough and their nails are too long. Jack is overdue for some health-related tests, and Dez doesn’t quite know what a toothbrush is yet (or a dentist, for that matter). My house is in a constant state of disaster. Anything that doesn’t walk right up and take what it wants from me is being neglected – my pets, my husband, my friends, myself.
I don’t know how to fix any of it, but I know how to prevent this from happening in the future – no more kids! I love Jack and Dez so very much, and it seems to be to my detriment. I’m sure it will get easier, but right now it’s awfully hard and I can’t survive it again.
I wrote this a couple of weeks ago on my phone and emailed it to myself to post when I got to it. And I didn’t get to it until today. I’m in a better place now mentally compared to where I was when I wrote it, but I do think it’s a good idea that I’m done having kids. That makes me sad, but I’m coming to terms with it. I love my family and I need to figure out how to keep myself on the up and up for the long haul!
Have you made a decision on whether you are done having kids or not? How did you come to that conclusion?