The Second Baby

Ya know, now that the baby is finally starting to show signs of routine sleep, he ususally gets up at around 6:30. Long gone are the days he would sleep till noon. Or even nine. So during his first nap, I like to have my morning coffee with a dash or two of TLC's A Baby Story. It's what I watched every morning when I was pregnant. It went along perfectly with my peanut butter toast and cheese slices. I would cry into my breakfast, the baby kicking rhythmically for good measure. Now I cry while I watch A Baby Story, because I know how those women are feeling, and because I WANT ANOTHER BABY.
In true Western woman fashion, I can't only have one of something I love so much. And Jace is already doing things like eating bananas, and getting mad before nap time. So certainly, he's too old. I need another baby who will sleep all day in my arms, and will have cute little smeary poops.

I need to be pregnant again.



What's that you ask? Pregnant again? But you hated it, Kate. Why yes, yes I did. But I keep telling myself, it will be different this time. I will love the gradual expansion of my body. I will eat less. I will feel closer to this next baby during pregnancy because I will know the end result, and how much love I will feel for him or her.
But having a baby is very painful, you say. Yes, yes it is....isn't it? Harder is it getting to be, to remember the way the IVport felt. Harder is it getting to be to remember the way little grouchy nurses kneading my stomach felt. I can barely remember how horrible it was to pass out from exhaustion. Or the smell of the numbing spray I had to use from tearing.
What used to be super vivid memories of sheer hell followed by sheer delight, are now pretty foggy waifs of a memory. Something was uncomfortable, something bugged me I think.
What I really can remember is all of the love I felt, the first time Amanda and I heard Jace's heartbeat, and everytime there after. Or his little ultrasound pictures, when he stopped looking like a chicken nugget and started looking like a baby. Or his heartbeat, like a train in the night.
I can only really remember the best parts of the whole experience, because ultimately, that's what I was left with.
For example, right now, he's laying right next to me on the couch while I blog this, and smiling up at me, like there is nothing else in the world. Is there?

My body is telling me it's time, I seriously want a million children, because I don't remember all of the bad parts. And I love all of the good parts so much.
Isn't that how second babies are made?