With all this talk of the Royal Baby and seeing pictures of a beautiful teeny tiny baby everywhere it has got me thinking about me and my womb. At the grand old age of 37 it's time for me to decide whether baby number 3 is an option. And if I don't decide soon? That chance could be taken away from me (curse the whole process of ageing you sod).
I am wondering if we ever know if the time is right to stop? I've spoken to friends who have said "God no more for me!" or they have told me that they are happy they have got a bit of 'themselves' back. For me having a children has totally changed my life. And I am aware that this sounds utterly w*nky. It's not like I now roam around barefoot and tied to the kitchen sink baking cakes and making marvellous meals (by now you know I am a crap wife). It just has made me feel a bit happier. More content. Given me an air of "I don't really give a sh*tness" and made me realise what is important. Keeping children alive is. Being a size 10 is not.
I still have hundreds of baby clothes stored all around the house, and even hidden in vacuum packs at my Nan's house. I have a shed full of HUGE baby toys. We have buggies, and high chairs shoved in every orifice. And occasionally my husband shall suggest (with fear in his eyes) that "mmmm maybe we should just chuck the Moses basket?". "NO!" I scream as I haven't made up my mind.
I'm not really sure what is stopping me. Actually that is a lie. I know EXACTLY what is stopping me. One my house is quite small ("ah but you can have bunk beds" my heart tells me), two I am already super busy with the two ("ah but one will be in school"l my heart tells me), three I am the world's worst pregnant person ("I agree" my heart tells me). I suck at being pregnant. I am sick, I am miserable and the thought of working as a teacher and looking after my two worries me a great deal.
For now? I am undecided. But really edging towards just the two. I'm not 100% and the thought of not holding a a new born baby and sniffing their head makes me feel so sad (because we weirdly repress the whole screaming all night, puking, sh*tting bit don't we?). And I know that in the next year or so I am going to have to hold the mother of all car boot sales. Having a small weep as lovely pregnant Mums walk away with tiny clothes, or bright loud plastic toys. But until then? I am just going to have to duck every time I open the shed and a baby bouncer smashes into my head.