I’m going to go ahead and write this out, because if I don’t it will continue to sit in my head and fester.
Who the hell wants a festering brain?
So. It’s obviously no secret that Brock and I want to have another child. We’d been trying since January, and 2 unsuccessful attempts later, I don’t know where to stand. I want to be pregnant so badly sometimes it hurts. I cry and cry. I feel like it should be easier than this, like it was the first time around. I feel like we should just keep trying, and eventually we’ll get it right. It feels unfair, and painful. I hate seeing everyone else having babies, even though I’ve been there already and am thankful. I hate hearing all of my friends that have gotten pregnant again, even though I try so hard not to feel that way. I hate trying to plan for events that will be occurring in the next year, not knowing whether or not I should expect to be pregnant.
And at the very same moment…
I can’t quell the guilt.
So, so, so very much guilt.
Why do I want another baby so badly? Why isn’t Ronan good enough? I don’t want to replace him, surely, or mistakenly believe that having another baby will make me happier. Is my imaginary ideal of a perfect family so important to me that I can’t relax and live without getting pregnant for a while? That the only thing I can think about day in and day out is whether or not I’m ovulating, and whether or not we should do it tonight? How much insurance is going to rape us if we DO get pregnant again? Not caring about the money because I want it so badly?
At the very same moment, I have this huge fear of having another child. I’m terribly afraid that I wont love my second as much as I love Ronan. I’m desperately afraid that my mommy-Ronan relationship will suffer because of having another. I’m paralyzingly scared of being able to handle two much, much less than I’m able to handle my one wonderful son. Because, let’s face it, sometimes I don’t handle him very well.
Will I work with two, or will I stay home? Can we afford for me to stay home? Is it fair to my family for me to want to stay home, despite the cost?
It crushes me, every single second, to think that I will never have another child. Ronan will be an only. He will never have a little brother. Or sister.
It crushes me even more to think that I shouldn’t have another, that I’m being selfish for wanting.
And I can’t let go of the guilt.