Wednesday, January 07, 2009

In case you aren't following me on Twitter . . .

Leave it to me to need to eat my words more quickly than I can even swallow.

Remember this post?

And this one?

Well I had better get over myself, and fast. I had better find that baby love again, and I had better get used to sharing my time with more than just Christopher.

There's another egg in the nest where Little Bird was. A bun in the oven. Knocked up. With child. A Littler Bird. Whatever you want to call it.

I wasn't going to mention it, because you know, what if something happens? Then Kevin reminded me that if something happens, I'm going to want to talk about it, and not pretend like it didn't. So, here I am.

All pregnant and pausing.

I didn't run and grab the camera when the second line appeared this time. I didn't go jump into bed with Kevin and bounce him awake with the glorious news. I didn't celebrate right away. One day, I might feel guilty for that.

Instead, I peed on a stick and left it to go get Little Bird up and in a clean diaper. I sang the "Good Morning" song to him and cuddled the sweet spot on the back of his head that I love so much. I thought about it just being the two of us. I thought about nursing him. I thought about how not ready to wean he is.

Then I carried my little boy back into the bathroom where I found two lines. Faint, but there. Two of them. And I cried.

For some reason, my first reaction was that I was robbing Christopher of some of his babyhood. I immediately felt like it wasn't fair for him to have to share me while he was still so young. I was and am scared that this will terminate our nursing relationship before he is ready (although I've since picked up a copy of Adventures in Tandem Nursing and feel better about that).

Now that I have had a couple of days to process though, I realize that this next baby will always have to share me. He won't get any "just him" time. And Christopher? He is so little that he won't remember having me to himself - unless you count subconsciously, which my mother pointed out he would always subconsciously remember. I'm ignoring that for now.

Now that I've processed a little more, I realize that Little Bird and Littler Bird stand a good chance of being really good friends. I realize that we have decreased the number of years in diapers here. I realize that it's all going to be alright.

We wanted another one, and neither one of us is getting any younger. We obviously weren't preventing another one, excepting that I was counting and had been fairly regular until last month. I don't really care for the term "surprise baby." He isn't a surprise, just his timing is.

He is wanted and loved. Now or whenever.

And with that, I may have to go puke.