Let’s have a chat. Your antics lately have been nothing short of outrageous. Just like my delightful 14-month-old daughter, you occasionally disregard my “no” and seem to completely ignore my requests for silence. My only option left is to vent online like other parents seem to do.
I’ll give you credit where it’s due. If it weren’t for you, my overly cautious, meticulous self would have probably postponed motherhood indefinitely. Your incessant reminders after I hit 30 were the push I needed, so I’ll forgive a lot of the stress you’ve caused.
Now, while I can’t say I loved how you tried to convince me that every guy I met was suitable for parenthood, I do appreciate that you connected me with David, the wonderful man who became my husband, and nudged me to step out of my comfort zone.
Yes, I was racing against time, so I’ve accepted your constant reminders that my fertility was dwindling. However, I wish you would have calmed down once we started trying. Those challenging months of trying to conceive would have been a tad easier without your panic-fueled reminders, but ultimately, I got my daughter, and I’m grateful for that push.
Now, it seems you’ve developed a case of selective memory. Remember those four weeks of prodromal labor? I was out and about, dragging you with me for hours, trying to encourage that baby to make her entrance. Did you miss the 27 hours of labor, two hours of pushing, and an emergency C-section? Because I sure didn’t.
And let’s not forget those sleepless nights with a newborn. I’m pretty sure I did more crying than she did. The endless months of her not sleeping? Ring any bells?
I just got my body back, you know. It’s a huge relief to leave the house without a breast pump in tow or to recycle that mountain of bottles. And can I just say how glorious it is to enjoy a glass of wine without guilt?
So here’s the deal: I’m not in the market for more kids right now. I’m not saying it’s off the table forever, but for the foreseeable future, it’s a definite “probably not.” So you and your hormonal buddies need to chill out.
I refuse to feel guilty about this. If my daughter has siblings someday, great! If not, she has plenty of cousins to grow up with. She’ll be just fine as an only child. Sure, those tiny newborn clothes I’m buying for a friend tug at my heart, but then my daughter hugs me, and I realize the joy she brings far outweighs the chaotic newborn stage.
So stop with the ridiculous suggestions. When I think, “I’m not ready to share my attention,” I don’t need you chiming in with, “But think how great a big sister she could be.” We both saw her trying to bite the dog again. Trust me, waiting until she’s more equipped to share is a kindness to any future siblings.
And just so you know, if we do decide to expand our family, you, my hormones, and my uterus might not even be invited. You can thank my friend Jennifer, the social worker, for enlightening me on the beautiful possibilities of adoption for foster children.
What I’m saying is, the choice about our family size rests with the adults in this household, and we’re perfectly happy as we are. I need you to tone down your tantrums and stop pressuring me into decisions I’m not ready for. Or else, I might just schedule David for a vasectomy, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.
Warm regards,
Me
P.S. If you’re curious about home insemination methods, check out this post on Intracervical Insemination. Also, you might find Make A Mom helpful for more on the at-home insemination kit. For a deeper understanding of infertility, Women’s Health offers excellent resources.
In summary, we’re perfectly content with our family dynamic right now, and it’s essential to silence the pressures from the biological clock while we enjoy this stage.