It’s funny how many times I was asked when Chris and I are planning on having another baby while I was in California. (How many times, you ask? 1,263,465,309 times.) And it makes sense… They haven’t seen me in awhile, and Ezra is now huge-normous and practically old enough to rent out his own apartment and attend night school while holding down a job to make ends meet. (all this before the age of two! wow!) Why not get started on a second one, right?
Here’s the thing: I haven’t even really thought about having a number two yet. Not seriously, at least. The first time I got asked that question while I was in CA, I was speechless for a few moments before I could answer. It’s like I’d forgotten that having more kids was even an option and the question struck me as so foreign that I felt like I suddenly needed a translator.
A couple weeks ago, though, I started having these intense dreams about giving birth to a baby girl and then handing her over to this other lady in my dream who was trying to kill all of the artists in the world (including me and my husband.) The second I handed this evil lady my newborn child, she immediately broke down and started weeping and stopped trying to kill all the artists. She just sat there and rocked my child and soothed her with lullabies and kisses. I awoke from these dreams feeling really calm and peaceful, like there was something amazing in our future, But also feeling like it wasn’t quite time just yet.
I’m not quite ready emotionally (or practically) to throw another munchkin in the mix right now, and Chris isn’t either. But even so, the fact that I was feeling excited and confident that there even would be a number two in the future was a huge step for me. Up until very recently, the thought of having another baby was completely overwhelming and unimaginable to me. I was more like, “ONE IS ENOUGH, THANK YOU” and “PEOPLE HAVE TWO OF THESE THINGS? DEAR LORD WHY AND HOW??”
Even now I still have those days where thinking about starting all over again with another little baby seems completely crazy. I mean, I’ve made it this far with Ezra, and it sometimes feels like a mountain I don’t want to turn around and scale again, you know? I’m in this mode of taking it day-by-day while holding on to the hope that this is just a season and soon he’ll be tying his own shoes and sleeping over at friend’s houses and going to Preschool. More independent. I don’t want this precious time to completely pass me by, of course. But, to be honest, sometimes I wish I could fast forward a little and get to the “remember when Ezra would curl up into a ball on the floor and scream whenever another kid came anywhere near him?” phase of life. Where the challenges of today become the funny memories we share with friends and family tomorrow.
Before, it was mostly “just let me get to that place, God, and then everything will be OK. Let me get to the other side of this. Just let me get there, let me get there, let me get there…”
I know that when the time is right, Chris and I will know it. I personally would like to get Ezra out of diapers before Number Two comes along. That would be nice. Although, judging by the loathsome “Nooooooo!” wail Ezra emits whenever I mention the word “potty”, this could potentially be SIX YEARS FROM NOW.
And I must insert the necessary disclaimer here: If Chris and I were to find out tomorrow that we were pregnant, we’d be thrilled.
SHELL SHOCKED, but thrilled.
(PS- you know those ‘name lists’ that I had put away after we’d finally named Ezra? Somehow they ended up spread out all over the coffee table last night. I swear I don’t know how it happened. And then I must have tripped or something because before I knew what was going on, I had spent a good chunk of time reading through every name on those lists until I suddenly came to and realized WHAT THE HECK I WAS DOING.)
**PLEASE NOTE: this post may have been nothing but a shameless excuse for posting pictures of teeny weeny little Ezzie Bug for your viewing pleasure. Apologies.**