I haz it.

Bad.

Yes, I’m aware of the fact that I already have a baby. But we want lots more kids, and the thought of being pregnant into my forties just doesn’t sound appealing. I know plenty of women do it, and that’s fantastic, but I cannot count myself among their ranks. I already feel like a seventy-year old woman, what with my hemorrhoids, arthritic texting wrist, and bum knee.

I also want the rest of our clan to be a lot closer together in age. I waited a very long time to get pregnant again. Now, I’m regretting that decision. The boys get along famously, and Henry is a better big brother than I could have ever fathomed. But seeing other people that have lots of little ones running around together? It makes me so sad that I didn’t give that experience to Henry.

So, you’re probably thinking, “well, if you want another kid, get pregnant you whiny sad sack.”. If only I could! See, I’m not one of the lucky ones that can breastfeed their baby for three years but get their period back at only six weeks postpartum (never in my life did I think I’d find myself WANTING my period to show up). And you know what else makes me feel like the unluckiest person ever (no, not the hemorrhoids)? Every single mama I know that blogs, or uses Instagram, or passes me randomly on the street, got pregnant while nursing their current baby, without ever having their period return. Oh, and they’ve got a six-month old on their hip while they’re telling me how they’re so excited to be pregnant again. And four more kids at home all under the age of five. WHY CAN’T THAT BE ME??I’m wise enough to know that if our family is meant to add another babe to the brood now, it will happen. We know that we want at least five, maybe six. Maybe enough to have our own soccer team. If that takes us longer than I’d like, then so be it. Ezra is such a gigantic blessing, and if for some reason unbeknownst to me he needs more time to be the baby of the house, who am I to try and alter the course this ship is headed in? I mean, look at that sweet boy:

But I can’t lie: it hurts every single time yet another mama with a baby Ezra’s age announces she’s baking another one. So if you’re the next to tell me, know that I’ll literally be green with envy, but excited for you all the same. If I say something like, “already? Geez, didn’t you just have one?” it’s just my pain talking to you. If I punch you directly in the jaw, that’s just my pain talking, too. Okay, I won’t punch you, but I may kick you as you walk away.