For the last few years my biological clock has all but smacked me on the head each day, alerting me to the fact that I am now in my <upper> thirties, and, while I have two children already, I have not yet "completed" my family. Now, honestly, for a while I was content with two children, both boys. I had them fairly early in life, at least the first one, at ages twenty-three and twenty-eight. They are terrific boys, too. More loving and sweet than any mother would want. I'm proud of them daily, and thank my lucky stars that they are such great kids. So, what's the problem? Why do I think I want more children? My husband and I used to pride ourselves in not contributing to the world's overpopulation too much by having more children, as we've only had enough to replace ourselves in the cycle. Why is it that I feel this great pull to procreate and to start all over with another set of diapers, bottles, day care, preschool, sick days taken by someone other than myself?
For a long while I believed it was my need to mother. My boys are obviously maturing, and as they do, they need me for the basics a little less. Although they need me more in some regards, like homework and social issues, they no longer need me to feed them, to dress them ("Get out of my room, mom! I'm getting dressed!"), or to hold them while they fall asleep. I miss those days terribly. Believing that was the case, we decided to get a puppy for me to mother. Actually, we got two. And for a little while, a very, very short while, that worked. Puppies take much work. Unfortunately, they grow even faster than children. Their infancy and toddlerhood only lasted about a year. They're fairly self-sufficient now, other than food, the need to go outside, and general petting and playing. Besides, like my boys, they play together so much and so well, they don't need the grown-ups with whom to play or cuddle so much.
I accept the fact that my children are growing up, that they need me in different ways now, and that one day all too soon, they'll be leaving my house to seek out their own lives. I'm surprisingly OK with that.
So what keeps pulling my biological clock to the end of my nightstand to ring so loudly in my ear?
Is it the fact that I always wanted a girl? Possibly. As a former tomboy, however, this is a little surprising to both me and those who surrounded me while I grew up. I never learned to braid hair or to wear high heels without falling on my face. I never liked girlie and frilly things. My sister was the girlie girl. I was daddy's little helper on the farm. I've been happy in jeans and a pair of boots all my life. What on earth would I do with a little girl? She'd either be such a tomboy as to put my mud pies to shame, or such a prima donna, we'd fight ferociously every day.
Insanely, I wouldn't mind either.
I look around at my friends and family. I was the only one out of all my current (city) friends to have kids while in my twenties. Most of my college friends and those I have met since waited until their thirties to begin parenting. I was the one who had to find a babysitter or leave my spouse at home in order to hang out with them while they simply had to find the right shoes. Now, they've got young children or babies on the way.
My sister stopped at one. After her divorce, she never remarried. My brother (step) is having his first this spring. He is in his early thirties, but his wife is about my age, and this is also her first. My sisters-in-law are quite another story. Quite possibly, I look at their families and am a bit jealous. Both had their older children in their twenties. Then, they have both had a "second set" in their upper thirties. R. has two children with her second husband and two from her previous marriage. Her oldest is eighteen, her youngest is one. A. had her first two children early in her marriage, and her husband (like mine) had a vasectomy after the second was born because they didn't want to have to worry about birth control or any surprises. In her mid-thirties, she decided, more than anything, she wanted another baby. Even though her husband (like mine) was reluctant, he finally acquiesced. They used a fertility specialist to perform an extraction/in-vitro procedure. They ended up with twins on a single round, which terrifies my husband!
I ask A. often for advice and guidance. While she sympathizes and encourages me to continue persuading my husband (her little brother) to take the plunge, she is also caught between a rock and a hard place. Her brother isn't as excited as I am. In fact, he is horribly reluctant. He has good reason, too! Financially, we are fine, but the cost of adding another child to the family would be a little bit of a strain. He's always in fear for his job. He's survived cuts for the last decade. He's waiting for his number to come up every day. It's a precarious place.
Beyond that, he is ready for it to be "just us." Kids weren't necessarily on his radar when he met me. I've always been the one who has pushed for them from the beginning. He has wanted to make me happy, so he's agreed. He has been a wonderful father, too. He's so much more than I ever imagined he would be. This is one of the very reasons I want to have another. We are good parents, and we make beautiful, wonderful children. I know I should be happy with what I have. Every day I admonish myself for the thoughts and feelings I have regarding this. For some crazy reason, I can't help it. While I also want our "just us" time, too, I'm not ready to give up the "all of us" days either.
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