May 2, 2013 by workitmamma
Arthur turned two in March – so now the new question ringing in my ears is: ” Are you going to have another one”.
‘Yes’ is my response but this yes is stretching out through this year and nudging into 2014. If I say yes then in my head it’s happening and yet the reality is I seem to be spending a lot of time pontificating about baby 2, how will I cope, what will I do about nursery, will I keep Arthur in nursery. Will I have another C-section – and on and on and on…
I was at the doctors last week and talking to an elderly woman about it. Her response: ” Oh my dear just get on with it then you don’t have to worry about it. I had five kids by the time I was 25 and we were fine.”
By having choices I’m indulging myself far more than I should be. It’s hard to make decisions when your back’s not against the wall, when any outcome will actually be ok. A flurry of relatively unimportant drivel fills my head and I’m spending lunchtimes discussing them with equalling indulged friends.
Today choice is key, it’s a social driver, a marked and welcome change, particularly for women and I’m not complaining. I’m simply getting annoyed with myself. A lot of my ‘concerns’ sound self indulgent and the moanings of a middle-class mum with too much time on her hands. How pointless my concerns will seem if this choice is taken away from me.
Living the moment, taking life at face value, making things work. These are all things that have been stripped away as choice and the insistence of choice increases. I’m not sure how I feel about this yet. Looking at it from a feminist perspective choice is paramount. Looking at it as a family, a working person with increasing financial responsibilities – choice is another noose with which to hang myself.
Having a second baby is something I really want to do and it’s a choice I hope I can make. I possibly won’t be making flapjacks every moment god sends and filling freezer while quelling my working guilt with delicious means. I will be tired and feel I have no time for myself but perhaps if I had three children, no washing machine, got my water from a well and cycled ten miles to work like my grandmother, I wouldn’t be so worried.