We’re still living in this new place of being one and done. Done having kids. Done with the idea of trying to conceive again. We still haven’t told our donor the change of plans because when we start to plan how to tell them, we start to worry that we’ll change our minds again in 6 months.
Technically we’re still open to trying for a second child one day, but we’re not both 100% on board right now so we’re halting all plans for trying. But I’m an all-or-nothing kind of person. I jump into whatever I’m doing with both feet, no questions asked, and I make the best of whatever situation I find myself in. I’m a planner, but only once I know a future is inevitable do I plan it out. I feel like I’m wasting mental energy by planning all possible outcomes, knowing full well that only one of those outcomes will come to fruition.
Once I accepted that we were going to stop planning for a second child, I was OK with it. I went through plenty of cry sessions and doubt and regret, but then I came to a place of feeling refreshed… I want to get rid of all of my maternity clothes, all but the most precious keepsakes of Avery’s outgrown clothes, all the baby swings and chairs and stuff. Having them in my closet makes me feel like I’m in limbo still, and it’s uncomfortable. I jump into new directions with both feet.
Since leaping into this one-and-done future, I’ve felt energized in my work again. I’ve even started looking for jobs (to start in 2020 when I’m done my degree). I’ve also been cherishing what I have with Avery to an even more intense extent. I’ve been spending half of the night sleeping with her in her bed just because I enjoy being next to her. I tell my wife I fall asleep in there and forget to come back to our bed, but really, I’m soaking up every ounce of night-waking baby cuddles that I can get before there are no more of those in my life. Avery’s already two and a half. She’s playing with her independence more and more, and now that we’re much more confident that she’s going to be our only baby, that independence brings me mixed feelings. It signals new beginnings for my daughter, and endings for me.
To be honest, I do still cry when I think about my fondest memories of being a new parent: The baby kicks from inside my womb, the life altering experience of child birth, breastfeeding and those oxytocin surges while nourishing a new life and gazing into their eyes, the first laugh, the first steps, the first hilarious thoughts they can articulate with words, the “I love you mommy”s, the bear hugs with tiny arms…. But I can miss it (dearly) without needing to live it again. I think. I hope.