Now discussions of a third baby are a daily occurrence in our house. The discussions always end the same, with my husband putting a very big and strong foot down on the idea. Part of me realizes that he will come around in time. Or that my begging will wear him down. Or that my cunning and deception will improve (I just may resort to such measures, if necessary).
I keep telling my husband that there is a 100% change he won't regret it. And I do have a good point. I doubt anyone looks at the face of their newborn child and thinks, "yep, I totally regret you." Unless that person is a cold-blooded serial killer who starves baby kittens and purposefully puts sour milk back in the fridge, just for pleasure.
Surprisingly enough, even though we are completely different people (don't even get me started with how garlic bread should properly be made) my husband and I agree on almost everything. The things we don't agree on are very piddly and unimportant. The biggest thing we don't agree on is politics. Even then, we manage to co-exist very peacefully during election season.
So, the fact that we don't agree on baby #3 is really hard for me. Especially because it is something I want so desperately and so fully and so immediately and something he is adamantly against. The most unfair part is that we don't have to sit down and discuss the issue to get through the situation. If he doesn't want baby #3, it just doesn't happen. He automatically gets his way. Two kids is our status quo and if I want it to change, the impetus is 100% on me.
Right now we are gridlocked in a friendly daily battle. Who can most fully support their position regarding baby #3 with the most evidence collected throughout the day (can you tell I'm a lawyer?). Whenever the kids are simultaneously being difficult, my husband uses that to fuel his position. And when the kids are being adorable and sweet, that's when I chime in to argue my side.
I now submit my proof from this weekend...
In Defense of Babies:
They look cute eating popsicles
And donuts
They give each other make-overs
They wear baby crocs
They draw hilarious self portraits
They do weird things. This morning I woke up to find 20 Ziplock bags full of Play-doh on my table. Jacob told me he made snake people, separated them into families, and gave them Ziplock-bag homes. And he did all this at 6 a.m. The bag on the left with only two snake-people represents our next door neighbors.
Last night, Jacob started crying in his bed at 9 p.m. interrupting the middle of our movie. When I went in to get him he told me he was crying because he "pooped a little" in his pull-up. His crying woke up Ryan who also began to cry. I handed Ryan off to my husband and took Jacob to the bathroom. When we checked out the situation, there was very tiny skid-mark in his pull-up. Seriously kid? This?! Is why you were screaming and woke up the baby?
As Jacob was crying from the poop situation and Ryan was crying from having been woken up, my husband threw me a knowing glance and said, "imagine if there were three!" All I could think to do in response was to smile pleasantly and insist, "We need one more!"
Then there are moments when we are all playing on the living room floor together. Ryan and Jacob are giggling hysterically at something their daddy is doing and I just melt. In those precious moments, I'm sure to pipe in with an, "Awwww, our babies are so cute. How can you NOT want another!"
So this is my daily baby battle. As my maternal instincts are preparing to explode from want, I'm up against a cold, harsh wall. Part of me thinks I should be happy with the precious children that I have. Part of me realizes that I am amazingly blessed to have so many people to love. But the other part of me knows that there is still room in my heart and in my life for another. This other part of me feels as if something is missing or incomplete. There's a little empty space in the corner of my heart waiting to be filled. That part of me is very, very strong.
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