It’s happening again. Just when I thought I was immune. Just when I thought there was no way I’d ever want another baby. The bigger car, price tag on vacations, inevitably that they turn into teenagers, and other terrifying facts about having another baby don’t scare me anymore.
I’ve been away from my kids on business since Monday. I’m working with my favorite camera brand to create an online class for parents.–You’re going to love it. But anyway, during this experience I played with other kids, held the sweetest newborns, got kisses from a toddler who thinks I rock. I goofed off with kids older than my own. And I met moms who have four kids and seem to have it all together.
Now I’m unequivocally convinced I want two more. I mean go big or go home.
Three nights ago I had a dream I had a baby I didn’t know about. She was 8 months old and I was so sad I had missed out on the first part of her life and wondering how the heck I had a baby and didn’t know it.
Two nights ago I had a dream my husband asked me if I wanted another baby.
“N… Ye..” I couldn’t answer him. Even my dreams were indecisive.
Last night I had a dream I was driving in my car and noticed a shooting star. I wished for another baby.
In another segment of my dreams I gave birth to a baby and was hiding it from my husband.
It all seems so clear to me now.
Even though my husband is so done, and probably looking at a calendar and seeing what date is nice to have a vasectomy, I’m not scurred. (I probably should be.)
Or maybe I just miss my kids. Maybe once I get a good dose of loving from my own babies I’m dearly missing the fever will reduce and I’ll be back to normal. I sort of hope so. But I sort of don’t. I may need to take some of my baby fever antidote.
Monday. I should know by Monday.