Chapter One: One More is Just Too Many

My husband is one of those sweet men that just loves a baby. He can't get enough of them, holding them, talking to them. I guess having 40 or so nieces and nephews does that to you. I on the other hand have one brother that is 6 years younger than me, and lets just say I got my fill changing his diapers. I never grew up around babies and that was just find with me. With our first son, I made Mike come to the baby shower with me. He wasn't thrilled but he did it. A lady saw him there and shouted "Lets make him change a diaper!!" I think it was an attempt to initiate him into father hood and embarrass the crap out of him . If she only knew that her comment probably should have been thrown at me. He definitely knew more about babies than I did. It's a quality I adore about him. However, with this love of babies comes the love of wanting his own. He has three and you would think three is plenty. Well at least I do.

Over the last few years he has hinted (many times) that maybe we should have one more. ONE more, while as my youngest son grows older, the thought of starting all over in the baby department also seems to fade more and more out of the picture. But deep down in my resisting heart, I knew he was right, that our family needed just one more person in it and that's when my selfish side comes to the fore front.

Here's is my line up: Michael is my oldest and is 10, Arie is 7, and Noah is 5. These are self sufficient people for the most part. They can get their own cereal, fold clothes, clean bathrooms. Not to mention that here in Washington, 5 means you get to go to Kindergarten next Sept. I would have all week to myself...TO MY SELF...to do what ever the heck I want. I had visions of starting my Etsy store back up, making purdy signs again, working out, watching crummy soap operas, singing Adele songs as loud as I want! These are real dreams people. I shouldn't leave out that I also didn't want to get fat. Let's just be honest. So as these feelings of "one more" bubble up, my dreams of having a little life to myself stops dead in its tracks. It then gets hit by a train, and then has a funeral where I would sing I'll Fly Away. Game over.

The more I tried to deny this possible baby, the more the Universe decided to show me how wrong I was. I can't even count the times my extended family has "accidentally" set out an extra place setting for a child that didn't exist. Or a friend  wondering where my "other" kid was...when they had already counted 3. Someone else I knew actually used these words and I quote "It feels like someone's missing." Was this the Universe screaming out to me "Stop denying this you hag...it's what you are supposed to do! Get with the bloody program". I'm not sure if the Universe says bad words originating in England, but she could and this would be an appropriate time for her time to do so. Sometimes bad words are the only way to get my attention. It sounds fun but not always.

So Mike and I finally had the talk. The talk I hoped to resolve this issue and put it to rest once and for all. We talked about all of the cons. How it would affect our goals and our money and or family and you name it. This idea of having one more baby didn't look good and part of me was so very relieved. And when the conversation was over, we decided that was that. There would be no train to come and crush my new little life, I would not be singing I'll Fly Away anytime soon. Glorious!  But I could see the sadness in his face even though he knew it just wasn't going to work. It just was not. How could it? It didn't make sense. I got up as fast as I could so it could just be over.

That whole night I could barely sleep. I was wrestling with myself, but why? I had gotten what I wanted. No more babies, no buying diapers, sleeping through the night ....part of my life back. But that stupid little inkling that someone else was missing didn't go away.  What was that whole stupid conversation about if it didn't go away? I had everything under the sun to back it up that it was not an awesome idea. But it wouldn't stop. There was no way I was telling this baby loving man that it was still there, the possibility lurking in my brain, in my heart. Not one word.

The next evening Mike took me aside and said "The thing is, is that I know it's not a good idea, but I think we are supposed to do it any way." DAMMMNNNN ITTTT!!! Why, oh why, oh why, did you have to say those words!!! I stood there in the kitchen, staring at the freaking floor, at my worn Lucky Brand slippers, and realized he had won.