It has begun.
Most of the women I know (via real life and via blogging life*) who were pregnant when I was pregnant with Ryan are starting Round Two.
At first, the announcements trickled in slowly. Now, it’s a tidal wave of ultrasounds and birth announcements.
It was bound to happen. Many people aim for a 2-3 year age gap between children. At that point, the physically exhausting baby has turned into a mentally exhausting toddler and you’re realizing that the physical exhaustion wasn’t all that bad. (Or is that just me?)
A part of me feels a little twinge of jealousy with each new pregnancy announcement.
Ryan is almost 2-1/2 and there is nothing baby about him anymore. He talks in full sentences. He shows compassion and stubbornness (he’s still working on showing restraint). He makes his dinosaurs go to Time Out for biting each other. He knows how to make me laugh and he knows that if he tilts his head to the side and says “please?”, he’s more likely to get a cookie. He thinks he is all grown up.
So I get a little nostalgic over ultrasound pictures and baby bumps. When I look through newborn pictures, I imagine cuddling my own baby in my arms. When I pass the tiny onesies on my way to the toddler section, my heart skips a beat.
Maybe that’s just the mom in me. Maybe once you’ve held your baby in your arms, you always ache a bit to fill them up again. Maybe from now until the day I die, when I see a baby, my heart will melt a little. Because if I’m being totally honest with myself … I know I’m not quite ready. I know it’s not the time.
We’ve got this whole Moving Across the Country thing coming up rather quickly. My brain simply cannot handle one more Big Thing right now. I want to get to Pennsylvania, find a house, get settled. I want to work on my business. I want to focus. I want to have fun. I want to spend some time making that state feel like my home. I want this experience to be something we enjoy, not something we survive.
So I am choosing to have faith that more kids will come … when we’re ready. Perfect age gaps be damned. My arms aren’t going anywhere.
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