I?m scared the darkness that gripped me after my baby was born will come roaring back
I spent years of my life being asked if I planned to have kids. And then, before the incision from my c-section had even healed, people began asking me if I was going to have another. The first question was exquisitely inappropriate, but at least I knew how to answer it. The second one?which, now that my son is eight, has acquired a doubtful tone, as in: ?surely if you were going to have more kids, you would have done it by now??is much more difficult.
I still don?t know the answer.
The thing is, I love being a mother. I don?t just mean that I love my kid, although I do, of course; I love his strange non-sequiturs, his funny frankness, the way his hand sometimes slips into mine while we?re walking down the street. As complex and banal as it is, there?s something about being a mom that brings me profound joy. I?m so overwhelmed by my desire for another child that I struggle to find the right word for the feeling. Is it an ache" A yearning" Whatever it is, it dogs me. But I?m also terrified the darkness that gripped me after my son?s birth would come roaring back. The first few weeks of my son?s life were like a black hole: airless, all-consuming, a place where the laws of the universe as I had understood them no longer made sense. I couldn?t sleep, even though I was exhausted. Feeding was a struggle, and I wept through every nursing session. Even though I had more than enough milk, my son was having trouble gaining weight. His mouth was too small to latch, and his ...
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