The last 24 hours have been a bit emotional for me, and I really only have one person to thank for that -- me!
Hubby and I have gone round and round about whether or not to add to our brood. I've even blogged about it here. But circumstances being what they've been, the "right time" has never revealed itself, and frankly that's good considering the economy and how it could affect my job. After surviving two layoffs in the last two months, I'm grateful to be working, and know it could have been different if I'd been approaching maternity leave. The recent consensus has been that until my husband has a secure full time job, a baby really isn't an option, and I'm fine with that.
What changed is that for some reason, while on a lunch date with my husband on Christmas Eve, I was suddenly all talk about how we should think about pulling down all the baby stuff and giving it away after Christmas. Sensible as always -- I knew we'd be in the attic anyway, putting away our holiday decorations, so it'd be easy to pull one out while putting away the other. Aren't I clever? I figured it was time to clear some space, and also worked at convincing myself that I'd be glad I did it. And that this didn't mean we were "done," because there are always friends with hand me downs of this or that if we do have another baby later.
Deep down I knew this was a step towards declaring our house a baby-free zone, and that it would decrease the odds of my ever being pregnant again, but I thought it was a healthy step. So, on Sunday morning, down came all the boxes and bags and tubs of clothes and toys that we'd ever crammed up there. I got to work sorting everything into piles: clothes for baby Julian, clothes for Lisa's friends with girls, newborn clothes, toddler clothes, toys for the shelter, throw away -- my bedroom looked like a war zone. I was fine at first...and then the crying started. Soon it was sobbing, followed by unattractive splotchiness, which finally careened into silent tears as I packed away all of the precious memories. I did set one tub aside for the most special things that I couldn't part with, including some things that were mine as a baby, too. But the rest would soon be out of our lives forever.
A sweet moment in the midst of all this was something my daughter did. She doesn't care much for my crying, but instead of getting upset, she hugged me and asked me why I was sad. When I explained what giving away the baby clothes probably meant, she put her hands together, closed her eyes, and said, "Dear God...please, please give us another baby." My heart nearly exploded.
Wanting to do something nice afterwards, I treated myself to yet another movie. "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button," was very moving, and I'm glad I went to see it. And who doesn't want to see Brad Pitt get better and better looking for 3 hours?
I thought I was going to be just fine, and went to bed at a decent hour to get some sleep before my first early morning in days. Only I couldn't fall asleep. I tossed, I turned, I watched some Seinfeld -- nothing! Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.
I'm. Not. Ready.
If there's one thing I truly hate, it's regret, and I suddenly knew that if those boxes disappeared forever, I'd regret it immediately. I woke my husband up and told him my thoughts, and without even one complaint or even a hint of annoyance, he asked me if I wanted to put everything back in the attic. I said yes, and that was that.
I suppose at some point everyone is truly ready to make that decision, but for me, it's not today. Tomorrow's not looking good either.