And Baby Makes…FOUR KIDS.

So we’re having another baby. This means one of the following:

a) We’re nuts.
b) We don’t care about overpopulation.
c) We already get plenty of sleep, have plenty of money, and loads of time to spare, so why not throw another kid into the mix?

I vote for a), don’t you?

I never thought I would have a big family. The Quimbys are a spare bunch; I only have one sister and one first cousin. Daniel, however, has twenty first cousins and loads of aunts and uncles, so he’s used to big chaotic family gatherings. I will say that at one time, probably when I was twelve or so, I thought having a boatload of kids sounded like fun. That’s because I had NO IDEA HOW DIFFICULT RAISING CHILDREN ACTUALLY IS. And let’s not even talk about childbirth.

I’ll be honest: I’m nervous about managing four kids. I’m thirty-seven years old, and my oldest starts middle school this fall. Eleanor shows zero interest in saying bye-bye to diapers anytime soon (but that’s gonna change FAST, no pun intended). While I’m a pretty healthy specimen, I know I don’t have the energy and stamina I had when I was a new mom at twenty-six. And it’s not as if life is going to slow down any time soon.

But let me be clear about one thing: this was no accident, in case anyone was wondering. I remember distinctly feeling that my family was not yet complete shortly after Eleanor was born. In the months that followed, though, I firmly declared that I was DONE. NO MORE CHILDREN. Enough. I had more than I could handle. Still, there was that nagging feeling remaining…no more snuggly babies? No more nursing? No more tiny wiggly toes? Sigh. So we gave ourselves a time limit–we’d try for six months. If, during those six months, we didn’t conceive, then the door was firmly closed and we’d be happy with our wonderful brood of three.

Well.

I’m crossing my fingers that everything continues to go smoothly and that our little bean is growing healthy; my next midwife appointment is in less than two weeks, and I get to enjoy several months of “Advanced Maternal Age” bullsh-t. At my request we’ll be finding out baby’s gender this time. I want to know whether I can send Eleanor’s pink clothes on their merry way or if I need to hang onto them. Look at me, actually planning ahead!

Adrienne, Beth, Connor, Daniel, Eleanor, and Frankenstein

Adrienne, Beth, Connor, Daniel, Eleanor, and “Frankenstein”

 

 

 

 

 

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