What is it about a baby shower that makes me question my life choices?
The mother of one of Monkey Man's classmates is expecting another boy in about four weeks, so a group of us got together this afternoon for a little baby shower. It was really nice – held at a golf club in the private dining room, we feasted like kings, drank like gluttons, and oohed and aahed over all the little booties, sleepers, and rattles.
Whenever you get a group of women together for a baby shower, the conversation inevitably turns to birth stories, pregnancy problems, and the like. It's easy for me to look back at five years ago and laugh, but it all opens up Pandora's box every time.
I've been personally struggling with whether to have another child or not. Right now, I'm at the 70% mark for not having another. It's not that I dislike children – I love children. I just wonder sometimes if I'm really a good enough mother and person to have another little person to depend on me.
A few weeks ago when we went to the Def Leppard concert, Joey and I had dinner alone which is a total rarity. After a few drinks, the subject of having another child came up. For the past four years, each time one of us has been ready – the other one isn't. And it's not one or the other of us that's the problem – it's been batted back and forth like a birdie over and over again, alternating between Joey and myself.
For the first time, we're on the same page. It's a relief, but it scares me to death. And looking at all the baby stuff today didn't give me the pangs I've felt in the past. Yeah, they were cute – but secretly, I was relieved that they weren't coming home with me.
The subject isn't off the table – we agreed to put it on the back burner for six months and revisit it. Hell, my mom was 39 when she had me, so it's not improbable that we could potentially have another child.
I just don't know if I want to. And that bothers me more than anything.