For the joy of it

Remember this post? I had Feist's song stuck in my head at the time...

The decision to have a second (or third, or fourth, or...) baby is a deeply personal and highly charged decision. Or maybe not. Maybe your decision was quite simple - at the age of 16, for instance, you decided that you would have exactly 2 children. One boy, and one girl, for good measure.

For me, the decision was deeply personal and convoluted. There were moments where my husband felt ready for another baby, and I felt ready for my next glass of wine. Then there were moments where I felt the tug of baby as an ancient and powerful female desire. My uterus was literally calling out to me. And at these moments, hubby was quite content to head to the fridge for his next beer.

All of a sudden, though, we seemed to click. We began tentatively discussing "if," and then soon we were discussing "when." It came down to this: we ultimately could not see ourselves moving on in life without inviting another little person join our clan.

Maybe this little person would decline our invitation. Maybe once they showed up, they would be the unwelcome house guest (or that douche bag roommate you lived with in college) - getting drunk and rowdy, staying up too late into the night, waking us up at ungodly hours. Maybe they would even cry a lot and be emotionally dependent.

But we felt compelled to write the invitation.

Because buried within the chaos of The World of Newborn, there are hidden gems, worth ten times the frustration, sleep deprivation, guilt and sadness that may come along with parenthood. And with each "phase" there comes more joy and laughter  - when you meet your partner's eyes over the top of your child's head, and mutually bask in the question "did we actually make this little character?"

In the words of Peggy Vincent, we took a leap of faith, "just for the joy of it."

I may question my parenting techniques, my ability to be a good mother, and, let's be honest, my sanity. But what I will never question is whether I have the capacity to love. I will never wonder whether there will be joy. I will never wonder whether I made a mistake, because there are no mistakes in motherhood - there are only solid stepping stones of success and personal growth (and yes, these come with heartache and occasional exhaustion!)

And although I must sound as though I'm walking through the valley of the blissful-pregnant-lady, I'm also highly realistic of what's in store for us. Which is why I realize that my birth doula work may need to be on hold for a couple of years; and why I might need to be resourceful in finding ways to make money AND be a good mom; and why I need to stock away every last penny right now, in order to survive the bare-bones EI benefits I will receive; and why I might need to swallow my pride and just reach out for help.

So with eyes wide open, we moved forward, and extended the invitation. And a miniature someone received, and accepted.