On going forth – or even fifth – and multiplying.
For the last, oh, say six months, I’ve been thinking increasingly about the idea of having another baby. Well, that’s an enaggeration (which is, of course, the opposite of exaggeration), really, as I’ve probably been thinking about it for longer than that, if I’m honest. Ever since I was little, I have wanted to have a family of my own, to have people around, to have crows and chaos and noise and mess and games and screaming and bedlam. I think this is partly because, given the eleven-year age-gap between us, my brother felt more like an adult than a sibling, and I had a sort-of only-child upbringing as a result; indeed, the Gothic Folly, as I think of him, moved out when I was six, which only served to emphasise his grown-upness, particularly as we went round to his flat for tea once a week or so, my mother and I, at which he served all the foods we never normally ate at home, i.e. party rings, jelly and lots of fizzy drinks. (Because those are The Foods Of Grown-Ups, clearly. Ahem.)
So, it was with a mixture of envy and wonder with which I watched friends’ families at home, with brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts, grandparents and so on. Our house was always pretty quiet, really, apart from the constant music that living with two musically-inclined parents created; the communal games that I saw at other people’s houses weren’t something we were in a position to do, really, given that my mother wasn’t a games person, and two people can’t really make up teams.
And then I had the small girl. When I met Quercus, we sort of thought that having some children, at some point, would be nice. Ideally, those children would appear while we were on the younger end of the child-bearing spectrum, we thought. A PhD, house-moves and whatnot put paid to that one, and by the time we were settled to the extent that it seemed just shy of utter insanity to contemplate adding to our numbers, I was twenty-eight (and yes, I know that’s not ancient, but given that my own mother was twenty-one when she had my brother, it still seemed older than I’d sort of thought I would be, in the ideal-life-with-lots-of-money-and-thus-choice scenario). That girl has transformed my life. I love her so much more than I ever thought possible. Her merest chortles are my day’s ambition. I find her continually fascinating, and being with her is the most extraordinary thing. Watching her learning about the world, seeing her trust in me, being the person she wants first thing in the morning and last thing at night – it’s amazing, without wishing to coin too many clichés.
We’d talked about children with two-year gaps. When she was about fourteen months, I reflected on this, and it felt almost like a betrayal to consider a second pregnancy. My first, which was largely taken up with working on my PhD like a compulsive lunatic, discussing extensions around that, and wondering just why the divine forces which rule over this earth had seen fit to visit me with SPD, was lovely in many ways, and I can honestly say that I loved being pregnant, but I do remember many nights in the bath, wailing that it wasn’t supposed to be like this because of the aches in my pelvis, and many days where just the smallest of tasks felt worthy of Hercules. I struggled to see how that would fit in with the world of a fourteen-month girl just discovering mobility, who was still feeding six or eight times in a day and waking at least twice a night.
A few months passed, and I realised that there was now no way we were going to manage anything like that charmed two-year gap we’d talked about. I started to feel a bit shifty about it. Quercus had already laid his cards on the table: he was quite keen to have another baby, and thought we’d find a way through the resulting chaos, just as we had the first time. To me, that chaos was still firmly in place – back at work for five mornings a week, I was still getting up frequently each night to feed or soothe the small girl, and I was a bit of a walking zombie quite a lot of the time. I couldn’t imagine how we could keep all the balls in the air aloft without at least four of them dropping on us in a painful – possibly embarrassing – manner. So, I prevaricated a bit more. When she sleeps. When she’s walking more. When I’m not so tired; when I’m fitter again. When the house is a bit more finished. When we’ve got a back door. You know, that sort of thing.
And now I find myself a year on from that.
The small girl will be twenty-six months on August 1. If I were to find myself pregnant this very second, she would be just under three by the time a sibling made its appearance earth-side.
In my mind’s eye, I see a brood of small children, all fair-haired, clinging to the leg of my rather dishevelled dungarees while I bake something delightful with the help of the eldest. I see holidays with a line-up of small people in the back seat, all jabbering excitedly. I see vast swathes of newspaper-wrapping cast aside in the dark early morning of Chrimbly as we ferret our way through bestockinged presents.
I’m still not as fit as I’d like to be. I’m still heavier than I’d like to be; though I have made a bit of an effort, I’m not winning any prizes. The house is definitely closer to being finished, but I’m aware that some of the work we have still to do will involve major disruptions – replastering the entire inside of the original house, taking down the ceilings – and will probably mean we need to move into the kitchen for at least a couple of weeks. The outside is getting better – we have fixed the render problems caused by frost, painted the woodwork, sorted the drainage – and the garden has undergone something of a transformation in the last three weeks. But still… The list of ‘to do’ that’s outstanding would be more than enough to put many people off buying this house of ours, never mind the list we started with.
The small girl, meanwhile, sleeps much more consistently these days; we never did take the cry-it-out route, though there were times when we began to wonder if we were fools not to have done, and she sleeps through most nights these days, teething excepted. We still have early starts, of course, but I no longer feel that I’m on my knees, sleep-wise, and I can cope with the mornings now that the nights are more settled; despite all indications to the contrary during my teens, I find I actually like mornings, and I enjoy that sense of smugness that I get from having been up for a good hour or so before most people, quietly walking about the house and sorting things out. She is still breastfed, but only three times a day or so, around waking up, going for her afternoon snooze, and en route to bed at night. She is altogether more independent, and yet…
She still seems so small to me. She looks at me, and expects me to know what to do. To provide the food, the cuddles, the reading, the fun, the laughter, the bathing, the understanding. How do you do that when you have a tiny person to consider too? How do you explain that things over which she has had sole dominion for her entire existence she must now share with another person? That sometimes that person’s needs may have to come first? And what of weaning? I am quite happy feeding her still: it works; it’s peaceful; it’s close; it’s pretty much perfect. Would she wean because I was pregnant? Would I want her to?
I used to think that having a second child would be so much easier after the first. I thought the decision would feel less life-changing, less enormous in its impact. How wrong I was. I find myself teetering on the brink, aware of time passing, aware of Quercus’s hopes, aware that, if someone told me tomorrow that I would never have another child, I would be desperately saddened.
When does the right time come along? And can it bring bunting, please, and a big cake, just so I know it for what it is?
“How do you explain that things over which she has had sole dominion for her entire existence she must now share with another person? That sometimes that person’s needs may have to come first? And what of weaning? I am quite happy feeding her still: it works; it’s peaceful; it’s close; it’s pretty much perfect. Would she wean because I was pregnant? Would I want her to?”
All I’ll say on this one is, for goodness sake wean her before you get pregnant. Otherwise she will feel pushed aside in favour of the new baby. And you could be starting off a whole future of ‘emotional unrest’ for her.
I tend to think that these things cannot be dealt with at the intellectual level, and that one should, ahem, let nature decide.
Savannah was the merest 19 months old when her brother arrived — and yes, it was on purpose. I wrestled with the same things you mention and had more than a huge bit of guilt over the fact that she was going to have to share me — we had lovely routines of togetherness and she had always been a very needs-intensive child. But you know…things do really just work out. Mind you I look back and think, how the eff did i manage…but i did. She was too young to do much explaining to so we just had to wing it. and, in the way that Nature takes care of these things — Sebastian was a very easy-going baby and so everything fit into place (more or less).
Sure there was sheer exhaustion — Savannah decided to stop napping not long after Sebastian landed (i still mourn the end of naps…) and frustrations and logistical nightmares. But I’m not really a *baby* person, you know? So I knew i wanted to have the *baby* parts close together lest i get out of the groove…plus I was way older than you….32 when i had Savannah and 33 with Sebastian.
So what I’m trying to say, in my rambling incoherent way, is that no matter how (or if) you decide to go forth, it really will be grand.
What a dilemma! We’re having a similar dilemma about having our first, and it has caused endless nights of heated discussion about work, time, money, family etc.
A three year age gap isn’t that bad. Small Girl will be much further on in her understanding then, and can get involved (and help) with Baby Things. There are three years between me and my sister; and apart from imprisoning her in the laundry basket when she was 1; I think I did quite well as a big sister!
For me having the second (and third) child was much easier because it wasn’t a blind, terrifying unknown this time. The odd thing is you look at Child 1 and feel it’s such a betrayal to have another and then? Child 2 is there and you realize that the person you almost thought of as an interloper and stranger is your child and Child 1′s sibling and of course they needed to be around – how could you think of life without them?
Also – the chance to be a big sister is a pretty nifty thing and the Small Girl may very likely be delighted to have a realio trulio living baby in the house to cuddle and love (and eventually boss).
The exhaustion and chaos problem – well that’s the unanswerable, isn’t it! Do you see them disappearing any time soon? Or (if it’s my life) will there always be new chaos and more exhausting things to do?
Right,that’s enough of this navel gazing. There is no “right” or “wrong” time to have a baby – you will learn to cope and adapt because you’ll have to. But the longer you leave it, the harder the decision is becoming. And who’s to say how long you’ll take to conceive anyway? I reckon you should stop the contraceptives and let nature take its course.
i think the ‘when is it right?’ is the same as your first. there is no right time. there’s always something to do, or more you’d rather have sorted out.
fact is, women have been having several children for centuries and managing. i think it a modern dilema to over-worry about ‘will child #1 feel cast aside’.
every child is different and depending on personality they will feel jealous, protective, exhilirated, more loved, annoyed… at/towards siblings. can’t be judged.
how did you decide to have your first? same thing now… it’s in your hear or not.
that aside, i love your idyllic description of a large family. the idea of a brood and more noise makes me vomit a little. ;p
I don’t have personal experience but doubt there’s a right time because there are far too many variables. As Mon says, all children are different and every circumstance will be different: 2 years may be perfect for some children but the worst possible for others.
A friend had her two 15 months apart (very little planning went on there, I have to add) but the boys couldn’t be closer; the elder didn’t seem to resent anything about the younger’s arrival and now at 6 and 7 they’re terrific friends.
this is a lovely post and quite an understandable dilema. i was 7 when my younger brother was born but i loved having him around, helping to take care of him. i know that lots should be taken into consideration when planning a family, but i have learned the hard way not to put off something that you want so badly. i had one goal in life growing up and that was to be a wife and a mother. i’ve yet to find the husband part of that and five years ago lost any chance to have children when forced to have a hysterectomy due to ovarian cancer. i came through fine, physically and have been cancer free since, but my life is nothing as i wanted it to be and if i had it to do over again, i’d go the frozen pop route so as to get the miraculous opportunity to birth a child of my own.
my best wishes are with you as you make your decision
blessings
~*~
Well, I’m still struggling with that issue. 8 years later! I don’t recommend prevaricating for as long as I have. Everything you’ve described has gone through my own mind an untold number of times. But I’m 38 now (got pregnant when I was 29). It’s a very different story now, and even if I wanted to have another – as in being 100% certain – my chances of having one are fading with age. However, I can’t stand it when people push me to just get to it. It’s just not that bloody simple for some of us.
It’s a tricky decision. It just is. Our modern reality dictates that in so many ways. I don’t believe there is ever a perfect or even right time. Just that some times are more right than others. Possibly. Also, that level of exhaustion, once experienced, is hard to return to – *on purpose* – heheh. And personally, I’m very idealistic, and could never approach the issue pragmatically as something to just go and get done. Into the breach and all that. I have to feel the same way about it as I did the first time around. But from what I hear, that’s hardly ever the case. My dilemma has also been tinged by wondering if my ambivalence would be a betrayal of the second child, loving that child less somehow. Although, ultimately that’s quite irrational and the love would as likely be just as strong and real as for the first.
For me, now, I’m asking myself if I would regret not having another child. Trying to see the overarching shape of my life, (which is hard when I haven’t lived that next bit yet!). I think there is a natural sadness when one’s reproductive years are winding down, (and yours are obviously not yet), but regret is a whole other bag to be dealing with. I don’t want to be 50 looking back and wondering why on earth I didn’t have another child. But that’s still not an answer, I realise. It’s just the dilemma I’m faced with currently.
All the best with your decision EW.
((hugs))
i’m with allotmentqueen on this one: stop the handwringing over ‘right’ vs. ‘wrong’. stop contraceptives & have the faith that it will work out becuase it already has (with the witchling).
Oh I can feel the bittersweet ach in my belly just reading your post. We “planned” to have our second when our first was three. He’s now heading swiftly toward four and I’m heading swiftly toward 34. We’re a bit behind schedule and planning so many potentially wild changes in the coming months, I just can’t see getting pregnant anytime soon. I’m consoled by the fact that when the time was “right” for the first, I “knew.” I’m so rarely that sure of things!
Life also so rarely looks how we imagine it will. I hope your sign comes and you’re listening carefully (it does sound like you’re already straining to hear, so I’m sure you’ll “know” when the time is “right”!).
Thanks for all the comments.
BW: well, I think opinions vary on the weaning issue; I have some friends who’ve successfully taken the tandem feeding route, and some who weaned in pregnancy without a hitch. I guess I’d just have to see what felt right for all of us, at the time.
mel: I think I remember reading somewhere that either about 18 months or over 3 years turns out well, gap-wise, because of the first child’s development of a sense of individuality (or lack thereof!). Sounds like it worked well for you, anyhoo. And yes, I definitely like your tactic of the baby bits all together – though I love babies, I do not love the lack of sleep which we experienced with the small girl, and, not wanting to tempt fate, I’d have to assume it would be similar second time around, I think, just so I brace myself, as it were.
OverWyreGrower: yup – debating about having a baby is a big thing if you’re prone to navel-gazing, which, obviously, I am.
Hope you manage to do whatever makes sense to you both – for us, it was a huge decision, but the best we’ve ever made (beyond choosing each other, that is).
Megan: that’s a very good point, about the person you’re thinking of as an interloper – when I was pregnant, I did worry a bit that the incoming baby would seem like a distraction from time we were used to spending Together. As soon as she arrived, of course, that all just disappeared, but somehow I appear to have slipped back into it when thinking about a second child… And yes, again, to the constancy of chaos – I can’t imagine that it’s going to change, if I’m honest, any time soon…
Allotmentqueen: the trouble is, I am just not That Person. I can’t just throw caution to the wind on this one; I need to feel that it’s Right, even if the timing isn’t certain. It’s just too big a deal to not, for me, though I know what you mean – have often thought that if I just found I was pregnant, the question would be answered.
Mon:
GoodTwin: ‘far too many variables’ is it. Part of me knows I ought to stop thinking about it and just wait until it feels – if not right, then righter. Meh. We’ll see.
Laura: … which is exactly the sort of story which makes me think I should just get the hell on with it and be thankful that I am in a position to do so. Thank you for telling me.
Nettles: there is no straightforward answer, I think. Winning the lottery would help, but short of that… Good luck with your thinking.
petoskystone: maybe I just need to rediscover the inner zen? Oh, and lose the outer excesses…
Amanda: I guess it’s often the way. That notion of a ‘schedule’ is a bastard, isn’t it? When you find you’re not on track, you start questioning and wondering if you shouldn’t feel different and whatnot; try as I might, though, it’s only now that I can contemplate the idea of a second child without the overwhelming emotion being ‘you must be kidding!’. I guess more sleep has helped enormously with that, as well as having a house which is no longer quite the hovel it once was.
As one of your childless readers, I’m afraid I have no words of wisdom on this subject (though I do know the uncomfortableness of sitting on the horns of a dilemma).
All I can offer is the award I’ve given your blog – not much, I know, but details are over on my blog.
My daughter is having a similar dilemma – she’s older than you though, and found that having the first took a lot out of her and she only really felt completely right again when the babe was 18 months old. She’s not sure now whether she can do all the upheaval again.
I say nothing, as she hasn’t asked. I wouldn’t really want to be an only child, myself. I don’t think I’d have minded as a child, but later and now I’m very glad to have a sibling. But then we get on. Not all do. Sorry darling – but whatever decision you make, or whichever way it pans out, you will make the best of things, because one does.
Moonroot: I hope I didn’t just think I must pop over to you and say thank you!
Z: that’s it, I suppose – the being an only child thing. I think I’d have liked siblings closer to my own age, and lots of people with that situation tell me how wonderful it is, but then there’s a part of me which can’t help thinking of the all the attention that will be diverted from the small girl into another child, and feeling a bit shifty… I don’t know. But I do know that I would be very sad if I found tomorrow that I could never have another child, so I’m concentrating on that, if my diffuse mood can be called concentrating.
i didn’t wean boo off the boob before falling pregnant with yogi, i fed throughout pregnancy although there were a few weeks in the middle (around 23 – 26weeks) when i was convinced Boo wasn’t actually getting anything and then suddenly one morning she made an announcement that suggested the milk she was getting had changed…. she was 2yrs 2months when yogi arrived and continued to breastfeed ’til she was 3yr 6mo when she decided she’d had enough.
i don’t think there can be a right or wrong time but i do know that if you leave it long enough it becomes even harder to consider and some find themselves with only children as a result – i can empathise with the strange relationship with older siblings – my sister is 19yrs older than me. i also have a 9yr gap between babies number 2 & 3 and the baby phase was far more of a shock to the system after such a large gap than for any of the others.
good luck with the reasoning it out. i find none of mine mind sharing the attention 88% of the time and then for the remaining 12% they each demand it loudly and equally….