Musing

I was chatting with an acquaintance recently (names are not important, but she is someone I really like) and she asked me if we were thinking about another kid.

"Thinking, sure," I said, "But these days I'm mostly thinking probably not. We're not ruling it out, but at this very moment, I'm leaning towards no."

She asked me more about my thoughts, and I told her something like this: I am challenged (in every sense of the word) by motherhood. When I imagine adopting a second child (which, due to current wait times, would put a new baby in my life 3-4 years from now) I imagine 5-7 years in which I'd remain at that peak level of challenge. While I understand that after THAT, it would probably be extra-wonderful to have two children (they could be friends, playmates, comrades in the China adoption experience) and I might achieve peace of mind knowing they'll always have each other, there is that 5-7 years that comes first. I am striving to live in the present.

"Why should you feel guilty for feeling your family is complete with one child?" a friend asked me recently. "You and David spent nearly FIVE YEARS trying to become parents. It was a full-time job. It seems perfectly understandable that you're ready to sit back and reap the rewards." When I picture a multi-child household with me at the helm, I envision a level of chaos, noise and mess considerably heightened from what I now experience. And then, when I think about that lifestyle being a CHOICE, I remember that I am not compelled to make it.

I explained this to my friend, who was very understanding...or so I thought. When I said, "Does that make sense?" she nodded vigorously and replied, "Yes, totally, I think it's really important for everyone to know their limitations."

Zoink. Limitations. That stung a bit. Am I limited by the growing sense that I am temperamentally suited to parenting one child? Is it my moral failing that staying at home and maintaining a toddler's schedule sometimes feels to me like standing in quicksand?

I want to emphasize that my friend, mother to two children, meant no disrespect to me. On the contrary, I think she genuinely tried to see my perspective. But it reminded me of a time I told another friend that David and I had initially thought we'd try IVF three times, but after two, we were absolutely, positively done.

"And that's okay," my friend had said. "Some of us are just stronger than others."

Wow. I hadn't realized I was weak. In fact, I thought that deciding I was more interested in becoming a parent than in preserving my genes while gambling on life-long debt and clinical depression while I was at it, took some guts.

But you know what they say: some people see a vase. Some people see two faces about to kiss.

What do YOU see, Dear Readers?