The Internal Dialogue Of Wanting Another Baby

Last week, my toddler went digging for dinosaur fossils in the plant potting soil. He flushed a plastic T-Rex down the toilet. He tore off his diaper and made a naked pit stop to pee on the kitchen floor. While I simultaneously chased him and cleaned up the messes that spread across three rooms, I found myself muttering under my breath a litany of “OMG, WTF, are you kidding me?!”

My children use up my natural energy before 7 a.m. every day. This is why I drink bucket loads of coffee; it’s to keep up. So it is no surprise then that after my second child was born, my husband and I raised the white flag. We were done.

But every once in a while I will see a newborn baby. It could be at the park or at school pickup. Sometimes it’s the doctor’s office or even a Facebook status update.

My stupid hormones pick a fight with my brain. It always starts out simple enough with my hormones asking my brain what she’s doing. My brain always responds with schemes of pragmatism like, “I’m telepathically tying our tubes.” Without fail, hormones gets offended and I find myself listening in on the following conversation:

Hormones: Hey, you know what would be awesome?

Brain: A nap?

Hormones: Getting knocked up again! Can you imagine?! The giant boobs, the big round belly, the feelings of love and excitement, and then holding that perfect little person in your arms and smelling that intoxicating newborn baby smell, you know, that smell on the top of a baby’s head? Yeah, that one…

Brain: Are you high?!

Hormones: I am high on baby fever! I want to get pregnant!

Brain: That’s a great idea! You could look forward to never sleeping, having hemorrhoids, emptying your bank account, not drinking, listening to more advice from your MIL, and saggy boobs! Sign me up!

Hormones: You’re such as asshole.

Brain: Just saying…

Hormones: But remember how sexy and fun the lets-get-pregnant-sex was? We could do that again!

Brain: You could also take up running and lose those 10 pounds you keep bitching about.

It is usually about here in the bickering between my hormones and my brain that I really feel the conflict and wonder if perhaps my husband and I were too rash with all the white-flag flapping. Is there a chance hormones will beat brain in this debate? As they ping their insulting points back and forth, the entire argument dwindles down to simplified concepts being lobbed at each other.

Hormones: Babies!

Brain: Money!

Hormones: Great baby-making sex!

Brain: Sleep!

Hormones: Snuggling!

Brian: Your other kids!

Hormones: A year off from periods!

Brain: Not having to push out a baby!

Hormones: The miracle of Life!

Brain: The miracle of peace and freaking quiet!

Hormones: Baby-wearing!

Brain: Oh, c’mon, you hated that thing.

Hormones: I did not!

Brain: Did too!

Hormones: Asshole.

Brain for the win! I argue myself right out of that fuzzy feeling of wishing for another child. But then…

Hormones: You know, we could still get our baby fix without all the work of pregnancy.

Brain: I’m listening…

Hormones: Well, did you see Dana getting all giggly over Ann’s baby bump?

Brain: Ohh, I see where you’re going with this. We could get our friends to get knocked up!

Hormones: Now you’re picking up what I’m putting down…

Brain: (fist bump)

My genius brain and hormones worked out a crazy plan to keep my womb vacant while I chase down my juice box wielding ninjas. Besides, they are right; I can always be that friend with crazy excitement for baby showers and the glorious scent of a newborn’s head.