I started blogging several months ago in an attempt to share my mental health story, thoughts on parenting, and being a two mom family. And then it dwindled. I struggled to post blogs that weren’t funny enough, or thoughtful enough. I obsess (ha) over each sentence and paragraph.
I slept in until 10AM today. Not because I’m bored, rather, I had/have two kids with extremely high fevers awake in the middle of the night. And a baby that still has an early morning feed. I’m tired. Cal hit four months and stopped sleeping, so did we. He would wake up every one to two hours for a nosh. My brain was fuzzy most days. Plus work, laundry, mothering, wife-ing, it’s a lot. Writing just wasn’t happening. The ideas were there, just not coming out. I thought I was tired with my first. That was like a late night college cram session tired. This was an anxiety before bed tired because I knew how little sleep I would get.
Three is hard. Specifically, when they are all crying simultaneously for NO.GOOD.REASON. Then I take a deep breath, practice some mindfulness and gently deal with each one’s feelings. Oh wait, no I don’t. I take an anti-anxiety and put the T.V. on. I only have one tool in my box when I’ve had four hours of interrupted sleep. Meds.
But we’re turning a corner. Cal is sleeping better. Noa seems to tolerate Atticus slightly more each day. And Atticus, well, is Atticus. Hopefully, the words will come. Not just in thought but for others to read.
One of the most common questions people ask me is if I am done having kids (as if three kids in four years isn’t enough.) The simple answer is yes. Although the reason behind the answer is less simple.
I had a rough start to motherhood. But Cal is a dream baby and I have looked at Betsy and said, “maybe one more.”
Although I would (almost) be open to having more kids, I don’t think I could handle it mentally, emotionally, or financially. Having kids in a same sex relationship isn’t easy. There is no “trying” or “not trying” whenever we feel like it. It takes money and planning. Our world revolved around it, literally. Waiting for ovulation. Picking up tanks of sperm. Being in proximity to a provider that could perform the procedure on the ideal day. Two weeks of waiting to test if it worked. Let downs when it didn’t. Thousands of dollars a month spent on sperm, and ultrasounds and blood work. One cc of sperm, or about the size of a kidney bean, costs $400-$1000. And that’s one attempt.
There is no trying while on vacation. Or “not putting any thought into it.” Or “if it happens, it happens.” Or “there is always next month.” Those sayings don’t exist in our world. ‘Next month’ means another cost the size of a mortgage payment. And missed work for doctors appointments.
When I got pregnant with Cal, there was a deep sense of relief knowing he was my last. I was ready to move on from constantly obsessing about being pregnant, about worrying if the baby was healthy, about childbirth, and the dread of the postpartum body. I was done planning my month around sperm pickups and IUIs.