Semi-permanent

The temptation is to hand down a final decision. To slit open an envelope sealed with wax, allow for a preganant pause, and tap out a drum roll on these well-worn keys.

Absolute silence, and suddenly there it is: Indelible. Permanent.

But after learning last week that my non-profit might go under in a matter of months,
and I could potentially lose the job
that has given me the luxury of doing the work I love,
from the comfort of my home,
with Sophia always nearby.
My awareness of how quickly things can change is heightened.

Nothing is indelible. Nothing is permanent.

So this decision is really just for now. For as long as for now lasts.

When I strip the shoulds away. You should have a baby before you get much older. You should give Sophia a sibling. You should think about how you would feel if God-forbid, something happened to Sophia.

When I quiet all the voices around em, turn my ear inward, and listen to my own.

All that remains is the fact that I don't want to have another baby right now. I can list out a hundred reasons why. But the reasons are all just that. A lawyerly case to convince me of what I already know vicerally.

I don't want to have another baby right now.

When we were trying to conceive Sophia, I wanted nothing more in the world than to have her. I would have gone thorugh any procedure, any amount of pain, and any number of repeated failures just to hold her warm mewing body, fresh from my womb, to my chest.

How, how, how could I bring another child into this world with a desire any less intense? This would be the earliest communication: That I was unsure. That I felt pressure. That I had him/her not because I wanted another one more than anything in the world, but because of fear.

In truth, I didn't need time alone and away to figure this out. I simply needed to focus my attention on the core of my ambivalence, to stop trying to make this a fact-based decision and make it a heart-based decision.

I don't want to have another baby right now.