Andy and I have never really had a "plan."
In our lives, we've discovered that 9 times outta 10, things were not going to go our way. Take for instance, when we tried to buy our first house. We were approved for the mortgage, were days away from settlement, were at the store buying a washer and dryer, and the bank revoked our money due to the collapse of the financial system in our county. Sorry washer sales guy- no house, no washer. TOTALLY saw that one coming.
We graduated from college and got jobs. We got engaged. We lost those jobs. We were engaged in January, he lost his job a few weeks later, I lost mine in May. We had everything planned for September. Every time we would get an unemployment check, we would buy something else for our wedding. After the fact, we took a loan out to pay my father back for all the money he had loaned us to give us the wedding of our dreams.
At 27, newly wedded and completely broke, we sat hand in hand in bankruptcy court, murmuring the mantra "we can do this. we can get through this..." We were trying to see our way clear of a year of unemployment while college loans mounted and the massive amount of credit card debt just piled up month after month. We spoke in hushed tones to the bankruptcy mediator, pleading our case, which now seemed petty after hearing the case BEFORE us. (Heart attack, no insurance, let all his employees go, economy collapsed...sigh).
And then we got pregnant on the first try. Who saw THAT coming? Liam was well thought out and well accounted for, but we were still blind to everything it took to raise a child. I had a poster perfect pregnancy. We had the perfect little infant boy. Then came the PPD, the marriage counseling, the MS, the weight gain...the weight gain...the weight gain... And then at 12 months he starts seizing in my arms...
The point is, you can't plan. WE cannot plan. I sat up with my sweet Liam on Wednesday night. He was fine, 97 degree temperature, and then BOOM, 102. No indication of what might've been wrong. Eating, sleeping, drinking, pooping, peeing, playing- all normal. 102 temperature. So I started the vigil- Tylenol...45 minutes...take temp...over 100, Motrin administered...cold washcloth...flip the pillow to the cool side...45 minutes...take temp...down a degree...doze off by his bed...45 minutes...take temp... and on. And on.
I love my son DEARLY, and would not trade him for anything in all my life. But when people allude to us having another one...I want to cut them. I went to my yearly OB/GYN appointment and I sat as far away from the pregnant lady as possible. It's not catching, is it? I double checked with my provider- my birth control isn't going to fail with this other med, is it? If we double up on birth control, we could be EXTRA EXTRA sure this won't happen again, right???
I hear of my friends (Now FOUR sets of them) all with number two on the way, TWO of my friends from high school have THREE little ones. Everyone looks to us for our next "big news." There isn't going to be any. Not for a LONG time, if ever. I spoke of giving some of my maternity clothing to a young, un wed mother at church. The woman next to me sat slack-jawed, "But what will you wear for your next pregnancy??" My next pregnancy? Is one not enough?
There are no plans in this family for the next child. The mere MENTION of another child turns my stomach. We have found this "new normal" everyone speaks of, and we're just hanging out here until something else unexpected throws us for a loop and we have to completely reinvent ourselves, just as we have SO MANY TIMES since 2007. Our child has JUST STARTED TO SLEEP. Just. 18 months, people. 18 months of no sleep. Yes, let's start that again in nine months.
Call me selfish, but I don't feel the need for a huge family right now. You can do anything with ONE child. Our house is big enough for ONE child. My mom can handle ONE child during the day. It's good for us right now. It's working. One and done? Maybe. But all the baby stuff is still in the attic in case we plan on losing our minds some day.