I hate to sound callous, but for me, children younger than my own are merely reminders of how far I have come, and warning of how much I don't want to go back, despite a whiff of desire that seeps into my brain occasionally for my own little boy. If only he could appear as an eager, well-behaved pre-schooler. The thought of midnight feedings, breast engorgement, diapers, potty training...Hell, just the thought of giving birth again steeps my mind with fear and loathing.
I had drinks with an old high school friend that has an 8 month old. He's adorable and sweet and spunky, but listening to her just made me exhausted. Sleepless nights? Check. Incessant colds? Check. Concerns over pre-school vs. day care? Check. Check, Check, Check!
And while on a play date with my college roommate and her 2 1/2 year old daughter, I thought to myself, 'How did I manage with two two-year olds?' I guess the answer is that I just did, and that I'm sooo glad I don't have to do it all over again.
Last week at twin mom book club, one of our members - who has 2 year old twin girls - announced that she was pregnant.
The whole room filled with twin moms roared with delight, and collectively sighed with relief that it wasn't us. I joked with her that I was So Happy for her, but So Glad it wasn't me because "that is my own personal nightmare."
I've done my time.
|"Kangeroo care" in the NICU|