A few months ago, absolutely. Now... well, yes, the thought of another birth doesn't ring joybells in my heart, but it's the thought of the pregnancy and postpartum periods that really have me cringing.
And we're not
I want a big family. At the very least, three or four... which means two or three, and likely more, labours and deliveries to go through. The 'what-ifs' keep playing in my head... what if I get pre-eclampsia again? What if I never get my homebirth? What if I have to have a C-section? What if I get more and more stretch marks every time, and develop varicose veins and haemmorhoids and gain just a little more weight with each baby and end up looking twenty years older than DH and hating myself? What if I tear? What if I can never be a good mother, because I'm always too tired and frazzled and grumpy? What if I can't cope with a newborn *and* a toddler, much less a newborn and several kids? What if I spend too much time online and don't give them an enriching childhood; or conversely, what if I spend all my time running after them while my hobbies and dreams and sense of self get slowly sucked into a tiny black hole? What if DH leaves me for a Brazilian cocktail waitress?
OK, so I clearly have bigger issues than childbirth.
And they're not exactly unique, never-been-angsted-before issues either, I know. While part of me would like the experience of planning our next child (Rowan was a surprise, more or less), I sometimes feel like I could never muster the strength to actually do
it deliberately, knowing what I was letting myself in for. You know? Right now the thought of women who've already had children deliberately putting their bodies through that again frankly astounds me. I feel like asking "Didn't you want to scream and run out of the bedroom while you were TTC when you realised that
could make you pregnant?"
(Don't worry, I don't actually ask this).
It's a bit of a mess, and yet DD is beaming at me right now from the floor where she has been happily emptying my handbag, and I'm chillin' on the internet, and life is really peachy when I think about it, so... But then, Rowan just turned one, and thinking about another baby has only become, say, 20% less terrifying in the last few months. Sigh.