The opposite of baby lust

It's no secret that Jason and I have been mulling over having another baby this year. But on days like today, I waver about whether I really want to have another kid. Zeke is teething and uncomfortable and is developing another yucky diaper rash (though, God willing, it won't be anything like the last one). He's sleeping horribly and as a result is fussy and easily frustrated and it's totally wearing me out. (How's that for a run-on sentence?)

I love the child beyond all sense. He is a sweet-tempered, funny, engaging kid. He's playful and affectionate and mischievous and inquisitive. It's so much fun to watch him learn new things and experience new experiences and take enjoyment from those experiences. Yesterday we had a wonderful time -- he woke up happy, we played outside, we went to the beach and he had a blast in the water, we took the dog for a walk, we read books, we played peek-a-boo, we wrestled. It was a pleasure to spend time with him. And it made me think of how much fun it would be to have another.

So what's the problem?

Every day for the last week, except for the day he slept until 8:15, Zeke's been up and ready to go by 5:30 at the latest. So by the end of the day, I'm completely wiped out, and have little energy to cook or do laundry or even take a shower. Plus, living with him is like running a hotel for a pint-sized rock star -- the house is constantly trashed. Multiple time a day I'm putting puzzles together to put them away, gathering up his blocks from all over the house to put them back in their bin, wiping chewed up bits of blueberry muffin and veggie burger off the floor. Chewed up because his latest charming trick is to take a bite of food, chew it as if he were going to eat it, and then push it back out of his mouth, like toothpaste being squeezed out of a tube.

And all of things are just him acting like a 1 year old. It will pass. I know this. But I spend so much time exhausted and weary.

Plus there's the fact that we're in such limbo right now -- getting ready to move but without any definite timeline because we're working on the job situation, and worried about what happens if the jobs don't come through. I feel that with this kind of uncertainty, it would be insane to get pregnant now. How will I afford daycare for 2 children? Do I really want to resign myself to not sleeping for the next 3 years?

But then I think about how millions of people throughout history have had babies under far worse circumstances. And that by the time a new baby was born, things will have worked themselves out in terms of where we'll be and what we'll be doing. And I don't really want Zeke to be an only child. It strikes me as a lonely way to grow up (I was one of 3 and loved it).

I've been off birth control since October. But I've been half-hearted in my efforts to try to get pregnant. I know exactly when I ovulate every month. I can feel it, plus there are other signs that I won't go into. So I know when is the ideal time to get the job done. And over the past couple of months, I've deliberately let that time pass without any effort to take advantage.

At the same time, every time another month passes and I get my period, I feel like I've lost something. I had no trouble getting pregnant before, but maybe it won't be so easy now. Maybe if I don't get pregnant now, I'll never be able to. The thought of that makes me really sad.