I am very excited to tell you that I am supposed to be getting pregnant right now. No wait. Right. NAO.
Just kidding. But we were making plans. I had heard that people planned pregnancies, and I was about to join their ranks. WOW! Do people really do that? I guess so. I was taking vitamins and laying off the smack, and I was pretty sure I was going to know who the father was.
Anyway. It’s always been hard over here. It’s kind of like having one-and-a-half kids, since the big one was only here half the time, would have to integrate in, was sad on the way out, and then all the other times we had an only who missed her big sister. We always told ourselves that it wasn’t about replacing the big one. We fretted that Der Strudelnator would form some kind of alliance with the supposed new one, and the big one would get shut out. We thought the big one could spend more time here in the future, and then we would have a boodle of kids. Or she could decide that her dad was the best thing ever and we would hardly see her. It was complicated. We had to brace ourselves for every outcome if we were going to add another kid to the mix.
But sometime this summer, I think when we went on vacation, we brought it up and kind of went, “NAH.” Did we want to start over? Did I want to be a boobrancher again? Did we want to be outnumbered? NAH.
It feels weird. It’s like a little taste of death. No more making babies. That’s it. Here comes the grave. I am no longer a maker of life. Now my kids will grow up and trod over me and make their own kids and they will eat my liver and push me out on the ice floe.
Part of it was turning thirty, too. Someday I can be a wise old lady, or at least trick people into thinking I am, and say, “Yeah. I had kids in my twenties.” And then I can jump into my yacht and get greased up by jiggly deck boys. Or something. But two is the magic number; I’m so happy to say I’m shutting down the baby garage.
In Other News
While I’m feeling maudlin and stupid, I will tell you something I remembered this morning. Once, about a year before I left my husband I was whinging about the lack of sex (so a normal day-to-day activity) and he said something that stuck with me.
“Sorry. This can’t be fun all the time. After a while, marriage is boring.”
I am laughing as I am typing because I remember how crushed I was when he first dropped this revelatory science on me.
Soon, after all this is settled the hard way or the easy way, I will go back to hardly thinking about him, and only sometimes will the dumb things he said pop into my head.