Glutton for punishment

So what this siren song called makin' babies anyway? For all intents and purposes, Anonyhubby and I have it easy with Anonybabe. She is not overly fussy or demanding. She smiles and coos and is cute enough that we get a kick out of her. But parenting is hard. The sleep deprivation, the poop, the remembering to take care of all their needs at first, the worrying you're going to kill them anyway, the smell, the fissure in old friendships, the lack of sex, and on and on. It always sounded horrible to hear other people talk about it, and it is. But then you would always hear, "oh, but it's worth it." And it also is. I mean, look at this:
And that's just looking at her, and that's after having her face smooshed through a vagina; she's way more fun and adorable now. But fun and adorable as she is, why am I thinking of having another? I really have no good answer. I like the idea of a nuclear family, that odd little galaxy with its own gravitational pull put together by the likes of us, even though I know that that enveloping togetherness is in some ways an illusion. It's so odd to look at putting together a family from this end, as a kid it all seemed so inevitable: my parents, my siblings, my house. Now I see all of the choices and random elements that go into putting a living situation together and it's kind of freaking my shit out to see how patchwork the process is. It only took a few months of overwhelming biological urge to procreate and now we have a whole human being inextricably linked to our lives. I could just as casually get pregnant again, and boom! another nuclear blast to our lives.

Actually, I think #2 would be a nuclear blast whereas #1 is more like a little TNT boom. I've heard that the first child doesn't change your life so much; you can still hang on to some semblance of your former life & self. But with 2 it starts to get hairy. Soon after I had Anonybabe I was standing in line behind a pregnant woman at a boutique. I told her congrats and she kind of grunted. "Is this your first?" I asked. "No," she stated "The first one tricks you; it tricks you by being all cute and then you think it's a good idea to have another." She was visibly drooping. When I was flying to Pittsburgh we stood in line to board the plane behind a man who was leaving 5 children at home. He always makes his business trips as short as possible so as not to leave his wife at home alone with them too long. His youngest was 2ish and his oldest is 17. "I've been changing diapers for 15 years," he said, and he looked it. Poop. Poop had been a part of his daily life for fifteen years. Ya'll. Doesn't that give you the shivers? He looked beaten, haggard. Happy, but without the energy to enjoy it if that makes any sense.

But those are strangers; the people I really know who have more than one kid are happy with their lot. What are Anonyhubby and I going to be happy with? When I blurted to Anonyhubby, "let's have another" the other night, he responded "no!" and then murmured how he's just...so...tired. I think he can't imagine having any more love to give. Neither can I, but I haven't met Anonybabe 2 yet. This story just doesn't feel complete yet. Not that I have anything to plan for or worry about as I'm not getting any anyway.