Selfish v. Unselfish

I admit that wanting to have another child is mostly for selfish reasons. I have always loved children, and years ago knew I wanted at least two, maybe more. Well, the window of opportunity is slowly closing on having even one more, but I am still hanging onto that dream as long as I feel it's reasonable. My new joke is that my biological clock stopped working a while back, and I'm so old now that I'm hearing my geological clock. So that's one reason: fulfilling old dreams.

Another one is because I want to experience the magic of childbirth and those first months of caring for a tiny baby again. It may sound corny, but after the birth of my son I really did think, "Wow, this is why I've been put on this earth-to do this". And even though those first 6 months are harder than anything in life, they are also so wonderful and sweet that I am just dying to go through it again. This is REALLY selfish on my part, since having even one child at my age was truly a gift, maybe even a miracle.

Now, here's where things get debatable. I consider this to be an unselfish reason, but I'm sure someone could make the argument that it's also selfish. I really want my son to have a sibling to help him get through tough times in this sometimes crazy and cruel world. Because my husband and I are older, I wonder if there will be times in his life that he'll need us and we will have already departed from this world. Having a brother, I know how good it feels to know there's someone out there with the same flesh and blood as you. Someone that you could hopefully rely on in a crisis, or even for things like helping you move, or giving advice about changing careers or relationships. I feel this very strongly because I truly believe that it's going to get tougher and tougher to live life in this messed up world, with economic woes and global warming problems basically taking over daily life. It's already happening.

And finally, my last reason is because I think I'm a really good parent. Maybe I will raise a child (or children) that can help to clean up the mess that the world seems to be heading in. This seems unselfish to me, in a cocky but hopeful sort of way.

So there are my honest-to-goodness reasons for wanting another child.

Sadness

I'm so sad tonight. Part of it is PMS, which also means I'm not pregnant this month. But it's mostly because my little boy is not a baby anymore. He threw a temper tantrum tonight while trying to go to sleep, which is very unusual for him. He got himself so worked up that he was coughing and sputtering like he couldn't breath. I finally couldn't take it anymore. I warmed him some milk and let him sit in my lap to drink it, then rocked him until he was totally calm again. While rocking I realized there's already so much I can't remember about his baby days and nights.

I can't remember what it felt like to hold his little newborn body, when he was still small enough to hold sideways in the rocker. The very stressful days of trying to breastfeed, when I couldn't keep up with my 9+ pound hungry boy. The sadness of finally giving in and giving him formula after only 6 weeks. It's all such a blur now. The swaddling so he couldn't move and wake himself up, still in the bassinet in our bedroom. The very first days of the crib in his room. He slept well, but I didn't do so hot. The first time we let him sleep on his tummy, with both of us worried sick about all the things they warn you about. All of it is already like it happened in another lifetime a long time ago. And he's only 18-months old.

I SO want to be able to experience all of it again. This is greedy on my part, I realize. I never thought I was going to be able to have any kids at all. So this one is such a gift, and a little miracle, considering the miscarriages. But every month, I still get so excited during the last half of my cycle, when I could be pregnant. I want to pray for God to give us just one more of those miracles, and sometimes I do, even though I feel it's selfish to pray for specific things for myself. And then, when I find out that I'm not pregnant, it's another month that goes by and takes me farther away from 40 and closer to 41, another little chunk of hope lost from my heart.

Having a baby was the greatest thing that's ever happened to me, and raising him is the best and most important work I've ever done. Please, please God let me have another (healthly and happy) one.