No More Babies

Have I written yet about the fact that there will be no more babies in this family?

There will be no more new babies in this family.  I flip-flop on different days regarding how I feel about this fact.  Today, I’m relatively okay with it.  I am a tad nostalgic since I’ve been looking at Rock Steady’s baby pictures and since Be-Bop has started school, but I am aware that that nostalgia is with rose-colored glasses.  I mean, I’ve got two happy, healthy little boys.  I’m thankful to have my boys.  I’m thankful to have my boys at the ages they are right now.  I loved them when they were smaller but I really love that they’re growing up. 

The boys are so much fun right now!  For a good portion of this morning, Rock Steady and I played the “Where’s Rock Steady?” game.  If you don’t know that game, ask your local three year old to play and they’ll demonstrate for you.  I’m sure every three year old knows it.

Every once in a while I get asked, “But don’t you want a little girl?” 

Well, yes, I’d love to have a little girl.  I wanted three children before I actually had any children.  But now I’ve got my boys.  Now I’ve experienced what it means for me to be pregnant.  (Not fun.  Stressful. I’m a mean witch of a woman when I am with-child.)  Now I know what it takes to get through those newborn days and those first three years.  (Very stressful.  I hate diapers and I do not do night-duty!)  Now we are settling into a routine as a family and now I am seeking balance.  And for the pragmatists out there, yes, now I know how expensive it is to raise a child.  (It is a factor, like it or not.)

We decided “no more babies” after Rock Steady was born.  The decision was made and I never thought about it again.  I nostalgically purged the house of all things baby probably a year ago.  But a few months ago, we did consider re-thinking our decision.  One change in birth control and BOOM! I had baby fever again. 

So we spoke with my therapist and my psychiatrist regarding what it would mean and what it would take for me to go off my meds.  My therapist likes us as a couple and she described it as a “happy problem.”  I actually started decreasing some of my medicines, experimentally, with my psychiatrist’s blessing.  And, probably predictably, I got startingly depressed.  My psychiatrist took the offer of decreasing my meds “off the table,” in his words, immediately.  As we know, unfortunately, I am allergic to the one bipolar medicine that my psychiatrist says is safe during pregnancy, Lamictal.

J has said that if we could be sure it would be a girl, then he would be all for another baby, risks and all.  He has said he would gladly handle night duty again.  He has said those things because he knows how badly I wanted a girl.  But thankfully, he also loves me and our family enough to remember things with a little more of his mind in reality!  He loves us enough to want me to be healthy and to want balance for our family.

NInety-nine percent of the baby gear is gone from this house.  We don’t want another baby badly enough to subject Be-Bop and Rock Steady to an unmedicated Mommy.  I cannot, am not willing to go off my meds.  Had I been under the care of a psychiatrist and following medical advice when I first married J, I’m not sure there ever would have been two little boys.  But two little boys for this family, it is.

I am very thankful to have my boys.  Thank God for my boys. 

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