After five-and-a-half glorious years of coddling what was to be our last baby, I discovered I was pregnant with our fifth child earlier this year. My friends are delighted because all of us were done having children and the only way to get a baby fix was to make new (and younger) friends. No thanks. They have thanked me for my sacrifice.
If I had to choose between an infant or a toddler, I’d choose an infant every time. They’re incredibly simple creatures. Few situations arise where a diaper change and a boob or a bottle won’t fix it immediately.
Yet, even with all that simplicity and new baby smell, I’m not excitedly expecting. I am somewhat dreading going through the baby years again. Here are some reasons why:
I’m just so old
Now, before I hear any assurances about age being just a number and it’s all in the attitude, I hear you and appreciate you. I'm 44 and this pregnancy is kicking my butt, and I have no doubt that the new baby will also put my body through the wringer.
Back pain (and other ailments)
Somewhere around the third baby, I hurt my shoulder when I reached for some laundry detergent on a shelf. It has never been the same, and my babies keep getting more robust and fatty. I've had a ton of miscellaneous injuries — baby-related and perhaps, also, stupidity-related. But one thing’s for sure — as much as I am happy about having a fatty baby to snuggle and sniff and snog, I am NOT looking forward to all the ways my body will protest and creak and bend the wrong way.
I need sleep
Gone are the days where I was functional on fewer than 6 to 8 hours of sleep. I’m worthless as a parent, an adult — shoot, as a human — if my sleep is abbreviated or punctuated. Not only can I not retain any information, I’m also super cranky and short-tempered. Now you’re going to add a baby on top of that? Pray for my family.
Keep me from the first-time parents
I know this makes me a bad person — or at best, a snob — but if I end up taking this baby to any sort of baby activities, I will be surrounded by first-time parents. I used to be one, so I get it, but I already had all those conversations. I already overthought and obsessed about completely irrelevant details in an effort to feel some control over my environment. I don’t need or want that anxious energy in my life anymore.
Please, stop perceiving me.
Also, few things are as annoying as the self-righteousness of people who have parented for exactly three weeks. Hard pass.
I already got rid of all my stuff
I’ve long given away all the baby and toddler clothes. I no longer have a crib, a jumper, a high chair, or a swing. I have almost nothing baby-related left except things I keep forgetting to give away.
And now some of the stuff I gleefully pushed onto other unsuspecting parents has to come back.
There’s just so much baby gear
There was already so much unnecessary baby paraphernalia when I had my first kids, and I noticed the technology jump every two to three years when the next baby arrived. I resent even having to remember a diaper bag or a baby carrier everywhere I go for the next few years. I’ve gone back to the pre-baby tiny purses and I don’t want to go back.
I can’t remember anything
Not only did I get rid of all my stuff, my brain excised all non-pertinent information! I’m hoping it’s all muscle memory, but I really don’t remember how small and fragile babies are! Or how much effort and extra thought they require. It’s mostly logistics I can’t recall, but it seems important? I’m so screwed.
Babies are so needy!
Of course they are! But my youngest is now 5 ½ and he’s incredibly self-sufficient. Why have we gone backward in time?
They can’t tell you what’s wrong
I know babies can pretty much only cry or perhaps learn a few signs until they babble. And yes, you can do the process of elimination to see why they’re crying. However, it’s not nearly as handy as a child who can verbalize their needs.
They need you for everything!
Again, this is completely obvious, but babies can’t do anything at all! You have to do it all for them, and I’ve gotten used to my kids mostly leaving me alone and letting me live my life as I let them live theirs. Except now, we’re back to doing everything for a tiny human, and I am now tethered to another life until they’re weaned.
Of course, I’ll gladly do all these things for my baby because it wasn’t their choice to be born, but that can be true and I can mourn my independence for the next few years. Until this child decides they don’t need me anymore, I’ll have to content myself with the bonus years of extra baby snuggles and kisses.
