Baby, Baby, Baby

It seems like when one person I know has a baby, at least ten more follow suit. I swear, they must put something in the water around here.

This is going to sound extremely selfish, but I am finding myself feeling left out. There. I admit it. You will never hear me admit it in real life, but right here and right now I will say it again: I want to have another baby.

Okay, I want to, but I don’t want to. I’m torn on this issue. Let me explain.

My husband and I have been discussing having another kid for a couple of months now. When I say “discussing”, I mean both of us actually for the most part in agreement. He’s been pushing the idea for a couple of years now, but something has been holding me back from jumping aboard:


Of course! Something else for anxiety to torture me with!

One side of my mind is telling me: “Go for it. You want to have another baby. You don’t want your son to grow up an only child, like you did. People keep mentioning to you that it’s about time you had another one more and more nowadays. At first, it was a bit of a nuisance and you wanted to slap them and tell them that your womb was none of their business. But now, you are actually starting to like the idea. It must be a sign, right? The way people keep mentioning it, it is starting to sound like God is telling you that it’s time. Now, get off that birth control and get going. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

Unfortunately, anxiety has spoken as well and it has an awful lot to say:

“Remember your last pregnancy? Remember how you felt like a disappointment to your family and to everyone who loved you? Remember how you were basically verbally and mentally abused throughout the entire duration? Remember everything that you and your boyfriend/future husband went through?

“You couldn’t gain any weight. You didn’t get to a doctor until you were 33 weeks. The heartburn. The leg cramps. The morning sickness. The judgement. The time you passed out in the middle of the book store in the mall. The emergency C-section. The fear…”

As if my more logical senses are actually starting to fight back against this thing, I find the better half of my mind protesting: “You’re being entirely unfair. Then, you were a senior in high school. You were only a teenager. Things are different now. Every pregnancy is different and you deserve to be able to truly enjoy your pregnancy with your husband and your son by your side.”

But to be honest, my reluctance all boils down to one sickeningly strong emotion: fear.

I can’t really explain it; it just exists. I know I have nothing to be afraid of. I know that I should trust God and let him lead me in the right direction. Knowing is not the same thing as doing. There’s a lot of things I know I should do, but that doesn’t mean that I do them. I do way too much preaching and not enough practicing. I can advise someone to trust that God will do what He feels is best for them at that He will always lead them in the right direction, but sometimes I still have a hard time letting go and letting God.


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