There Will Be Brood 12
in a little more-or-less than a year, this will be me.
At some unspecified time between now and January, Tim and I will be trying for our third and final child.
Yes, we will be adding to our brood. Trying to conceive. “TTC-ing.” Having marvelously unprotected sex.
(Oh, pull your fingers out of your ears, family members. You know where our other babies came from, right?)
And perhaps not like other parents planning to add to their family, I’m excited and nervous and prematurely nostalgic for this next chapter in our parenting adventures.
The excitement has really been building ever since I got that subtle intuition, that deep-seated feeling that we were ready to try to add another person to our family–that there was a space for another person in our family. And I love dwelling on the mystery of it all: will we have a boy or a girl? Will s/he be due to arrive in winter, spring, summer, or fall? Will my pregnancy be difficult? Will I breeze right through it? What will my baby’s birth be like? What will s/he be like? How will s/he be different from or similar to his/her brothers? How strange is it that I don’t even know this person who will some day hold one of the dearest and deepest places in my heart?
But Tim and I both have raging nerves about our decision too: Are we really ready for another baby? Can we really afford another child (and potentially another college education)? Do we have enough energy for one? Good lord, will I ever finish my dissertation? Can we make it through that first year again? Are we trying too soon? Will I have a healthy pregnancy and birth? Where and with whom will I give birth? Will our baby be healthy? Will we have more than one baby? (Twins run in my family!)
Despite these nervous wonderings and second guesses, I still feel that the time is right, and that we are ready. And knowing that this will likely be my last adventure through pregnancy, birth, babyhood, and breastfeeding makes me nostalgic for all of the “last times” that Tim and I are about to experience: the last time I feel a baby kick for the first time. The last time that Tim and I get to feel those baby kicks together. The last time that I birth a baby, and the last time that I nourish a baby just with my own body. The last time that I smell my new baby’s smells, and see my baby smile for the first time, and listen as my baby coos, oohs, ahhs, and slowly builds those first words. The last time for sleepless nights and tiny onesies and little feet and first steps.
It’s all thrills and nerves and hellos and goodbyes and final chapters and new beginnings all wrapped into one, giant, transforming experience.
For what it’s worth, I’m not sure how much of our TTC journey I’ll actually share here on the blog. I’m all for publishing the ins and outs of my birth stories, and I’m going to blog the hell out of my pregnancy (for the free therapy and commiseration and cheering squad), but I feel strangely protective of those moments (weeks? months?) that precede pregnancy and birth.
On the one hand, I’m just not sure I have the stamina to go through months and months of TTC-ing in public. On the other hand, I’m also not sure I want to rub an easy-peasy “pregnancy on the first try” in other people’s faces–especially those who have been trying for months and/or are struggling with infertility.
Nonetheless, we will be trying at some “secret” time within the next six months. And the moment I spot those pink lines, I’ll make sure to start documenting the whole journey here.
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Did you or do you have the same feelings about trying to conceive a(nother) child? How did you know when the time was right to “TTC”? Did you or would you document your TTC journey, your pregnancy, and/or your birth on your blog? Or did you/would you feel protective about one or more of those experiences?
