I have this recurring vision of my life forty years from now:
It's Thanksgiving. The leaves outside our brick colonial home are a rusty shade of orange, and inside it smells like cinnamon sticks. I’m staring down a long dining room table filled with my large family, my offspring and theirs. I look identical to Diane Keaton in The Family Stone, with thick rimmed glasses and an apron cinched at the waist, which isn’t completely relevant to the story, but whatever- it’s my vision.
To make a long story short, my vision for myself has always been to have a large family (and to gracefully age into Diane Keaton).
Rewind to the present day with my crew: No brick colonial, no fancy dinners, no large family. It’s just my husband, my toddler, and myself, starting our lives together as a trio. Our routine is simple, but we like it.
It took my husband and me a little while to get the hang of parenting. But now days we are feeling like ourselves again, and - dare I say it – I think we are decent at being parents of a toddler. We do B+ work at least.
It's not easy, but life has become somewhat predictable, in a sweet, content sort of way. And for right now, one child feels manageable. We travel, brave restaurants (when we are feeling really crazy), and spend a lot of time doing nothing. Our very best nights are spent on the living room floor eating popcorn and making animal noises with our daughter.
Life has settled into a pattern, and all three of us are happy. So why do I have this little bug in my ear telling me to roll the dice?
Despite all my feelings of contentment, I can’t shake the baby bug. I bat it away, but the bug keeps buzzing back in my direction. So, like an erratic game of ping pong, I come close to committing to Baby 2, only to swat the idea away, asking myself later "what was I thinking?!" Maybe it's because almost everyday someone will look down at Meredith (my only) and tell/ask me, “so it’s about time for number two?”
“I dunno,” I shrug it off. "Things are really good right now." What I want to say is: "What’s so crazy about having a family of three for a minute?"
It sounds rewarding, growing my family. But plenty reasons tell me it's not yet time: (1) I can't get excited about voluntarily sacrificing my sleep again; (2) Managing vacation as a family of three is doable; and (3) I’m finally back in my old bras.
Three completely unselfish justifications for not wanting more children, right?
Probably not.
But sometimes the baby bug hits me hard. l watch my daughter play in the floor with her dolls- she wraps them in blankets and tells them goodnight. She kisses their fake boo-boos, and sings them songs. I sit in amazement at her ability to nurture at the age of 20 months old, and think to myself- wow, she is going to be a wonderful sister someday.
One of the best gifts I ever received was a little baby boy, three years my junior, who I could teach the ways of the world, and protect through every step of life. Being a big sister prepared me for motherhood, there's no doubt about it. And these are skills my daughter should have the privilege of learning early on. But in order to give her that experience, I've got some work to do: I'm going to have to come to terms with the fact that having a large family sitting around my Thanksgiving table when I'm 60 means having to sacrifice myself in my 30's.
Transitions are difficult, and so is selflessness. Adding more children to your family requires a heaping dose of selflessness, but watching your family grow makes all the labor pains and late nights worth it. No, I may not be ready to give up those skinny jeans. But, the thought of bringing another set of sweet little cheeks into this world makes the idea a little more appealing.
Maybe one day soon...
In the mean time, I'm going to enjoy my family while it's just the three of us, and while my skinny jeans still zip. Rest assured my daydreams of Diane Keaton and old brick colonials are always lingering in the back of my mind. But sometimes I just have to tell Diane to chill out- I'll get there in due time.