A Surprisingly Sane Blog

How many kids do you want to have?

I thought I wanted three or four, but then I woke up.

No, actually, procreation has always been a bit of an inner battle for me.  Growing up, I always wanted three children… or did I?  I grew up in a family with three kids, and considering I have the horrible habit of being my parents’ puppet, there was always an unspoken pressure to pop three spawn out of my vagina.  My mom and dad chose to have three, so I was going to make the same choice they did.

James and I discussed the possibility of three or four kids and were pretty set on that idea.  It sounded perfect to us.  A family of five or six. Three or four dark-haired-quarter-Chinese little clones.  Awwwww.

Then it happened- natural birth control.

As in, I babysat a 10-month-old for an entire day about a year before James and I got married.

To say I was traumatized is a ridiculous understatement.  After that experience, I realized that there was no way in hell God intended for me to reproduce.  I wasn’t cut out for motherhood.  If we decided later that we wanted kids, there would be plenty of opportunity to foster and adopt in this country.  Heck, if we fostered with the intention of adoption, we’d even get a trial run with that particular child.  It’d be like one of those “choose your own adventure books”, right?

Well, then James and I tied the knot, and I suffered from the Catholic wedding vows guilt in which I had to whole-heartedly agree to birth more little Catholics.  The number of children was in the Lord’s hands.  And I had to promise to this in front of the whole congregation and before God on my wedding day.  Needless to say, I ended up pregnant only nine months after we were married, and not because I desperately wanted kids.  In fact, I was terrified, and I felt like I’d been tricked by the church.  (If you really want the gory details of that whole experience, you can read about it here.)

But anyway… where was I?  Oh yes, the number of offspring I want.

So we had one, and that was plenty for me.  The postpartum depression and anxiety disorder I was diagnosed with in the aftermath of natural childbirth made it pretty clear that I had no business popping out more kids.  Parenthood was a bit of a nightmare for me for several months.

However, luckily, the depression passed, and Julie ended up being an amazing little person whom we loved more than we could possibly imagine. We toyed with the idea of having at least one more so that she wouldn’t have to be an only child.  I say “toyed” because we really didn’t make a definite decision.

And then, because my husband decided to go for it and seduce me while I was knowingly fertile and too horny to push him away, I ended up pregnant a second time.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is why you should never use the pull-out-and-make-the-sign-of-the-cross-method.  It’s too tempting for the guy.  All it takes is one slip-up.

Yes, Oops #2 came along.

And at first, we were super thrilled with our growing family and actually discussed the possibility of having another one.  That was hormones talking.

Then it happened:  I went crazy. I also started having all kinds of physical problems due to the birth of two babies a little too big to push out my southern end.  I’m better now in both departments, but they’re not something I ever want to have to survive through again.

Once my head was on somewhat straight, I realized that while I love my girls with all my heart (and know that if I were to have any more kids I’d feel the same about them), I really, truly, honestly don’t want to have to go through yet another pregnancy and postpartum stage.  This mama was meant to have two kids, not three or four or ten.  Plus, I like the fact that I can wear a size four and that my boobs are still perky.  Call me vain, but I don’t want to help the demise of those things along quicker than I have to by having more children.

Because my husband is the most amazing partner on the face of this earth, he agrees that two girls are all he wants.  Neither of us feel the need to produce a son or a whole army of children.

But also because of the fact that my husband really is the most amazing partner in the world, I can’t keep my hands off of him.  Considering how fertile we are, we are seriously playing with fire.  I can’t use birth control due to the breastfeeding, and condoms… well, they just suck.  We use ‘em anyway, but they really do suck.

So last night after some particularly amazing middle-of-the-night one-on-one time (which we totally had to do to make up for the fact that our monsters put an end to our evening dance plans), he looked at me and said, “I think it’s time for me to get a vasectomy.”

Now, a lot of women freak when they hear that, but I must say, I think that’s a great idea.

I keep having this reoccurring fear oh God, what if I get pregnant this month, and it’d be really nice to not have to worry about it.

I have a feeling my husband’s little troopers’ days are numbered.

Woo hoo!

Current Mood: Happy

This entry was posted on Friday, June 12th, 2009 at 11:57 am and is filed under Confessions. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.