Petra’s still discussing her potential little brother or sister. She’s got it all worked out – how they would play, what toys she would share, what clothes the baby could use. And apparently she’s happy to look after the baby so that I don’t have to. She doesn’t mind whether it’s a boy or a girl. They come in two kinds, she tells me and she’s happy with whatever turns up. And, she told me that if we had a baby, she wouldn’t be lonely and wouldn’t have to play only with me.
She was so wistful this afternoon about her lack of small child playmates that I’ve succumbed to an attack of the guilts.
I’ve been leaning toward not having another baby (if I even can at my advanced age) because I think I’m just too tired. I don’t so much mind being pregnant and giving birth – pregnancy is fascinating and the delivery is one day of effort – but the aftermath is a whole different matter. I was so drained physically and so exhausted that I’m reluctant to do that to myself again. I hardly slept for months after Petra was born and I’m still recovering after all this time.
But, (there’s always a but of course) babies are lovely and I’d love to spend time with another one. And two children just seems like the right number for a family. And if Petra’s going to feel so wistful and deprived, maybe we do need another child.
So I am wavering and have been for a couple of years now. Maybe the wavering tells its own tale – there was no wavering about Petra – we simply decided to get pregnant and we did. It wasn’t a decision that required much discussion at all, let alone months and years of dithering.