I am pushing 40, and based on all the intervention it took to have a second child, I'm pretty confident squeezing out another one would be close to an act of God. Still, I can't seem to quiet this nagging voice in the dark recesses of my mind which seems to be shouting out at me, "GIRL this is your one last hurrah -- are you sure the next time you want to be able to inhale that sweet newborn smell is when you are a grandma?"
There's this teeny, tiny part of me that thinks in a few years, my biological clock will no loner tick... what if I regret not having just one more baby? Of course, ask my husband, who is turning 55 this year, if he's even contemplating having another child with me and he will say very matter of factly, "The next set of diapers I'm changing will be my own."
And then there's the issue of my ovaries. Heck, I'm well aware that they've been slowly drying up since my mid-twenties and therefore I felt very comfortable -- or so I thought -- in my decision to stop at two kids.
Of course, as celebrities like Celine Dion and a bevy of women I know have been popping out babies like there's something in the water supply, I'm feeling like maybe my decision to keep my very traditional family -- a boy, a girl two dogs and a house with a husband -- needs to be revisited. And, unlike Sarah Jessica Parker (Lord knows how much she paid to have a surrogate carry her baby, whether or not she actually used her own eggs, which at her advanced over 40 years would probably not be the way to go), I don't have an endless supply of Sex and in the City funds to dip into to add to my brood.
If there's going to be any more kids, they're going to have to be added the old-fashioned way. I want to smell that newborn hair, fold little onesies, try breastfeeding this time, redo all the mistakes in hindsight I think I may have made with my two kids (who are probably no worse for the wear). I have this VERY small window of opportunity left.
Or maybe this yearning for a baby is more about my coming to terms with my mortality than it is about getting pregnant and bringing another life into this world, another kid that will need me as my others do 24/7 (really, I'm having a hard enough time as it is splitting myself in two). No, I would not relish changing diapers and those 2 a.m. feedings, and yet the thought that I will never get pregnant again is just so depressing and symbolic of the end of this phase of my life. What's next? I'm not sure I'm ready to close this chapter...