You know what? I’ve decided that this whole trying to get pregnant thing is beneath me. I kinda don’t like the idea of having something attached to me 24/7. I like being (somewhat) independent. I have personal freedoms that I’m not sure I want to give up yet.
In no particular order, some reasons for reconsideration:
– I love having two cups of coffee in the morning. I don’t have to worry about how many miligrams of caffeine are in each one, if I’ve had too much and what it’s doing to the baby in my belly.
– Ditto for my love of merlot. I want a glass of wine, I have a glass of wine. Or another margarita. Or two beers if I want. (I hope that doesn’t make me sound like I have a drinking problem, ha)
– The only person that follows me around now is the dog. And she’s not as nearly as needy as a child would be. If she needs to pee, I open the back door. Worst case, I clean her muddy paws when she comes back, but I don’t have detect if she has to go, help her go, or clean up after her when she does go. She just goes.
– I have travel plans that I’m really looking forward to, and I’d hate to give those up. Two weekends from now, a whole weekend in High Shoals for a writing workshop, and then a few weeks after that, I’m going to San Francisco for a few days to visit a friend. Don’t have to worry about who’s gonna take care of junior when there’s no junior.
– We currently have nice things that aren’t covered in mashed Cheerios and/or puke and/or God knows what else. Granted, they’re covered in animal hair, but take a vaccum to the furniture every now and then, and we’re good to go.
– If I want to run errands, I can without worrying about a babysitter or getting the stroller/diaper bag/toys/bottles ready. I get myself ready, I grab my keys, I pat the dog on the head and tell her to guard the house, and I’m out the door.
– Cankles. I’m not sure if I’d be subjected to cankles given my petite size, but it could happen, and I like wearing pumps.
– One word: episeotomy.
– Breastfeeding a teething child sounds like a pain I’m not really sure I want to endure.
So maybe one day, I’ll give it a second thought. Maybe. If I’m going crazy with boredom and decide I no longer care if I’m wearing clothes with baby food smeared on them or that I haven’t washed my hair in 3 days or that my car has turned into the abyss where pacifiers go to die. But for now, I think I’ll go finish off my pot of coffee, because I can.
*(At least I believe it’s Freud. Google failed me.)