I think my mom’s illness, and especially her difficult recovery from surgery, has crystallized things for me. In two ways.
The first: I’m so grateful not to be enduring her illness alone. Maybe that’s a terrible reason, but I’m very grateful to have siblings who share (more than their fair share nowadays) the burden. Not just the work, but the worry.
The second, and better reason: I realized, thinking about her mortality, that when I imagine looking back at my life from an older age, having a child is the very best thing I’ve ever done. Nothing else comes close. C. brings me unspeakable joy.
How can I not want to experience this one more time?
Another blogger wrote about her decision not to have a second child, and I completely respect her choice, and her reasons behind it. Namely that she can’t be a good parent to her first child if she doesn’t have time to herself.
I worry about this, also.
I wonder how much my decision is influenced by the fact that C. is an excellent sleeper. I can’t bear to share the exact details, for fear of jinxing myself, but suffice it to say, I’m very lucky.
Then, too, my job has good work/life balance. I’m savoring the delicious flavor of summer vacation right now, rolling it around on my tongue. Oh, life is grand.
True, I’m a little bored at work. But work will never hold a candle to life with a small child, so I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t want to be absorbed and delighted by work just now. I want a consistent paycheck, work that is moderately engaging, and to work as few hours as possible. Unfortunately for me, that is still full time… but with lots of vacation time.
I know I’m supremely lucky, and I’m counting on that luck to continue with a second child. Which is probably a foolish assumption. But I believe that whatever happens, I will rejoice in a second child as I rejoice in my first. And I will find a way to make it work.