Julianna wants a baby. A baby girl, specifically, and she’d like it now.
She had suggested that we get a baby last week. Because, after all, we don’t have one. And she loves babies. I was mildly amused, and kind of brushed it off. But this afternoon, she really stepped up the intensity on the plea. She had all of her reasons lined up – repeating that we don’t have a baby, and she really likes them. Marc tried to explain that she was our baby, but she wasn’t impressed. A baby that doesn’t talk. That’s what she wants.
There was no distracting her this time, she was convinced that we needed a baby, and I should go get her one. Now. I explained that I didn’t think we were having any more babies. I told her that babies take a LONG time to grow, and even if we decided to get one, she wouldn’t get to even see it until she was closer to five years old. And there was that beginning pang there, but I soldiered on. And babies can’t even play when you first get them, they just sort of lay there (and coo and smile and smell delightful). Finally, as we walked out to the car, I looked down at her sweet little face, and told her that if we got her a baby, I’d have to hold it all the time. Julie is still at the point where she would rather I swing her up on my hip that walk herself – and because I can – I indulge that. She’s light enough, and she loves being carried. But she thought about it – and that’s when she decided that, if I’d just go ahead and get her the baby, she’d walk all the time. And while I’m perfectly happy with the fact that I’m not currently pregnant, or planning to get pregnant in the near future – it only took about ten minutes of earnest pleading on the part of my three year old to make me think wistfully back. About the pregnancies (and enough time has passed that I only remember the anticipation, the baby moving, the excitement – none of the round ligament pain, the braxton hicks contractions, the non-stop vomiting, and the itching – oh, the itching…). And then the babies. I love the infancy stage. SO much easier than older kids.
We aren’t having another baby right now. It’s the wrong time, for a whole host of reasons. And by the time it’s the right time, I may not be able to get pregnant again. Even if I do get pregnant, it’s not like pregnancy is a walk in the park for me. I’m forty. That’s not the same thing as thirty. It’s not the same thing as fifty either, as that little voice in my head. It’s the same little voice that reminds me about how much I loved having my babies. How much each one has added to my life, and why wouldn’t I want to do that again?
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