Aunt Flo came into town the other night… but why-oh-why was there a tiny area of my heart hoping she would miss this month’s visit?
Curiously, the thought of having another baby doesn’t make me cringe inside like it used to. So, I’ve found myself toying with the idea of getting pregnant again. I haven’t had a serious enough conversation with my husband about it, but we’ve thrown it around loosely here and there. And when I say ‘loosely’, I mean we’ve said things like, “Ha ha! Wouldn’t it be crazy if I got pregnant again?” or “Could you imagine if we had another baby?! Yeesh!”
However, I’m still struggling with the idea because I’m jealous for my little Monkey boy. Whenever I look at him and try to imagine another little baby in our family, I think of him, with his tiny feet and bald head, getting shoved aside, while everyone makes way for the new arrival. No, no, no, no, no! Not my Little Monkey Love Bucket! How could anyone even think of kicking him to the curb?
I suppose what’s really going on is that I’ve got residual guilt from being pregnant with my boy. Guilt because when I had him, poor Huzz got the short end of the stick. All my time and energy went into taking care of the baby, and when I did have a free moment (which I didn’t), I just wanted to be alone to sleep. I guess I’m afraid that when I have another baby, it’ll be the same thing! And poor Monkey Man will be sitting on the sidelines with his daddy, waiting for me to share my love with him again. Ugh, the thought breaks my heart and makes me want to cry!
Pack your bags, Aunt Flo! This emotional roller coaster is too much!