Photo: Just in case if anyone is wondering about Ursa Minor and his broken little wrist… as you can see, the child is doing just fine. X-rays and cast off next week! (yay!) First bills for all of this nonsense just coming in (boo). This child, as you can see, is in very good spirits.
My fourth nephew was born today. I won’t share his name, but it’s one that I like a lot. His blanket is not quite finished, but will probably be done if I can knit with diligence and urgency this week (yeah right). We got the news over dinner in a flurry of texts.
And just like that, me and my husband were looking at each other across the dinner table, the big question of our life still floating between us: are we doing this third baby thing or what?
And this is the part where I will make a little confession to you, Dear Reader: I’ve been taking prenatals for about a month now. Not because a pregnancy is imminent, but because we got serious enough that I thought that it would be good to be prepared. To be responsible about things this time around.
Truth be told, the prenatal has made me think a lot more about this entire idea. Frankly, I hate the prenatal and I remember all the things I didn’t like about being pregnant: the restrictive diet, the physical discomfort, the remarkable queasiness… that only thing I hate more than pregnancy is winter! This prenatal that my doctor prescribed is super picky: must be taken 1 hour before or 2-3 hours after a meal, must not be taken within 2 hours of consuming coffee, yadda yadda yadda… who has time to set their watch for taking a megavitamin? And did I mention that the pill is the size of a baseball and tastes just as good? And its presence has messed up all sorts of regular function and faculties… it just… it sucks.
If it wasn’t for the daily management of the prenatal, I would have completely forgotten about this idea of a third child. May and June have been absolutely ridiculous. Between school obligations, freelance obligations, my new writing class, this blog (which I love), a full social calendar and the ferocious time-suck better known as Boy Scouts, I have had absolutely no time or room for another living, living or inanimate, let alone a baby.
It’s been months of back and forth at this point. Yes and no. We created a plan, a timeline, a specific course of action. And you you know what happened? May and June happened! Life got really busy so none of our precious plans and action steps came to fruition! And you know what, Dear Reader? That’s a good enough sign for me that we don’t really need this. We’re probably more than enough family. We’re two stretched adults and two spoiled children. Adding another set of demands, another schedule, another chaotic entity into our mix seems like the most foolish thing we could possibly do.
My Quiet Thoughts this week aren’t terribly profound. I’m a mother at the end of a long week, listening to the rain fall on the mature summer leaves. I’ve had my Friday wine, I’ve got hope for a productive weekend, I have a heart that is open and even aching to welcome one more member to this family, but I have a head that sees the logistics of it all and simply can’t make the math work.
I wonder if my hesitation is ultimately a lack of faith in myself, in the two of us, even in the unit of us four. Surely we’d adjust, we’d make room for new life, we’d share and compromise to have one more bit of the best sort of joy… but that’s my writer’s brain making the challenge beautiful, dismissing the hard moments already endured and amplifying the happy ones with unfettered bias.
Or, even worse, that’s my writer’s brain unwilling to ask me the question that I’ve been avoiding during this time of wondering and wandering: what am I willing to give up in order to have a third baby? Blogging? Freelancing? Writing fiction? Crafting? And what about all of that glorious unanchored, kid-free time finally coming my way in September? Will I really be ok with only having one school year of it, only to lose it again? I’ve worked really hard to earn and grow all of these things. I’m not sure if I can give any of them up. And so, the debate continues.
It has been been a night of rain here in Massachusetts, with the pleasant sound forecast to last until the morning. It’s the best sort of reading weather and sleeping weather. I’m so grateful for it. My plan is to get up tomorrow, sit with my notebooks and get started on my second assignment for my class. My coach gave me very kind, thoughtful feedback this week!
Though by the time this is published, it will be past-midnight, as I write this it is still Friday, so I can still have wishes for you. I wish you the happy sound of gentle rain, a soft bed, a good book and a good bit of time to sleep. I wish you sleep that is deep and restful, restorative and healing. Sleep until you can’t sleep anymore this weekend, Dear Reader. Rest for the purpose of resting. When you are done, this world and all of its wants and needs will be waiting for you. I wish you beautiful flowers and the complex perfume of summer. Try to spend time in a garden this weekend, Dear Reader, public or personal. They are soul giving, wonderful places. Matter of fact, if you don’t have one, I wish you time to plant a garden of your own. Even if it is just a small pot with two little plants, that’s enough. Green up your life, Dear Reader. I wish you coffee with a friend, a call from home, a little time with a person who loves you. Listen well to their stories, Dear Reader. Connection is a blessing. Feel the warmth of being loved. Remember that the time you give matters and the things you do mean something. You give a lot to the world and we are all better for it. So rest this weekend. You’ve given enough. When you are ready again, we’re here waiting for you. We need you, you’re wanted, and you are amazing.
Until Monday, stay safe, shine brightly, reach out and take care.