The constant shriek of children running around screaming with feigned fear and excitement. The smell of ridiculous amounts of calories. The children catered music in the background. The chatter of adults ignoring it all. All of that and what I am doing? Watching the toddler who isn’t quite old enough or big enough to play with the other kids yet attempt to climb the steps. I am watching his father pick him up and swing him and that smile that instantly splays across his face followed by the infectious laughter of pure joy. I am watching that, and all I can think is “I want another one.”
Then I hear DUN DUN DUN as if someone had a soundtrack to my thoughts.
For someone that never EVER wanted a child, this urge I get occasionally (with increasing frequency might I add) to reproduce is so unbelievably strong. I know that in a year or two Jackson and I will start trying, but my goodness I want one now.
I try to think of the sleepless nights. The sore nipples (and not the good kind). The time off work. The classes. The frustration. The pain in my bank account. Starting all over again. I try to think of all the reasons we decided to wait. I try to think of months not being able to sleep on my tummy. The doctors appointments. The constantly having to pee in cup. The grumpiness. The crazy cravings. The horrid feeling of being more of a slave to my hormones. The lack of alcohol. The irritating diet I can only imagine Jackson will force on me. The bad showers. The ups and downs in my libido. I try try try to think of everything bad about having another child. The hours of labor. The constant worry if everything will be okay. The pain OH the pain (that I know was there the first time, but don’t quite remember). I ponder on all of these things but still, after all of those thoughts. I want another one.