That New Baby Smell...

Eliot and I went to JJ's the other day to meet her family's newest addition, Easton Hawk. Seeing his tiny baby self and hearing all about his birth sent my ovaries into a tizzy. His little hands and grunts and squeaks, even his cry was crush-worthy. When I held him he let out an obvious (to a well-trained individual such as myself) hungry cry and I swear, my let-down reflex kicked in. I was suprised to look down and find my boob-area still dry.

Now that Eliot is rounding the corner on his way to the Big Two, people are starting to ask the inevitable, "When are you having another one?" It's a good question. One that I can't answer right now, at least not definitively. My original plan - that is, the plan that was formed before I was an actual mother with real-life baby rearing experience, was to have the second one within the older child's first two years. Well, here's news: I'm not pregnant, and I just stocked up on staying-not-pregnant supplies, if you catch my drift.

So when will we have another one? My mind is ready. Or at least, it's alerting me that my body is ready via excessive pregnancy and labor daydreaming and nighttime dreams. And at the same time my mind is telling me how much I love my little family and I'm hesitant to make any drastic changes, such as bringing an unpredictable, sleep-stealing, boobie monster into the house. And yes, there is that little voice in my head that says, "Really? Is it possible for another child to be as amazing and soul-filling as the one we already have? Could I love another child as much as I love my firstborn?"

Of course, the obvious answer is yes. While I'm sure there are some terrible, heartless people in the world who don't love their children equally, I don't think I'm one of them. And honestly, that is the least of my concerns when it comes to bringing another child into our lives. What does worry me are things like:

• Our personal economy: Yeah, it's bad all over. And that is definitely scary. However, I'm sure children were probably purposefully conceived and birthed during the Great Depression, so I'm not going to let a little Recession scare me. But what about in our home? My innately thrifty ways have kicked into overdrive. I seriously considered using my leftover cereal milk in my tea the other morning. I'm positively giddy at the thought of stocking up on 10 for $10 canned goods. Sure, the first 6 months of Little Mister/Miss New Baby's life is basically paid for (diapers - check, breastmilk - check) but what about after? Justin didn't get a raise this year due to the shittiness of the economy, though our cost for health benefits (I use the term 'benefits' lightly) is going up. There is not much, okay any, saving going on in this house.
  
  
• Where we live: We live in an apartment above a popular coffeeshop. As far as apartments go, it's not a bad place for a screechy newborn, due to not having sleeping overnight neighbors. The downside is that our neighbors invite bands to play bad covers at an excessive volume on the weekends sometimes.
  
  
• Where we live II: And what if we don't stay in St. Louis? What if Justin gets an awesome high paying job in another city? And we can't pass it up because, hey, we really need that great pay? Do I really want to be pregnant or half-crazy from sleep deprivation and move to another city? Not so much.

When I started this post, I was quite sure I had more reasons keeping us from french kissing until a baby started growing (because, Mom, that's how we got Eliot) but I'm seeing that most of my hesitancy is rooted in fears about our immediate financial and residential future. So maybe the next and last baby is not that far off. Maybe I can give a tentative response to all those Nosy Nellys all up in my reproductive business.

Maybe next year, Nelly, next year.