I meet up with a local moms group a couple times a week to take Lyla to different outings (the park, play gyms, etc) and one of the girls that frequents these has a 13 mo old son. Her and I get along really well and the other day we met up at the park and she told me she was planning to start trying to have another baby soon. My visceral reaction was 'ugh'. Then I realized that me and Tom planned to start trying to have a baby when Lyla turns 1. Then I thought about all the 'fun' aspects of pregnancy - the stretch marks, the cravings, the nausea, the edema. And I realized that we were supposed to start trying in less than six months and I just started to get a bit of my freedom back with the fact that Lyla takes a bottle now and I can go out every now and again. I don't know if I'm ready for spending every night in for 9 months then another 6 months and breastfeeding on demand every hour and a half and staying up all night (and not in the fun way). Add to that that at the end of my last pregnancy I exploded to a size that was just uncalled for and made me look like octomom and I cower in fear at the thought of another pregnancy.

I must admit, there were times where I absolutely LOVED being pregnant (not to mention milked it for all that it was worth i.e. "I'm seven months pregnant, I can't MOP the FLOOR!")but I just don't know if I am ready. I think the more time that passes the blurrier the memories become of the reality of pregnancy and that is what tricks us into doing it more than once. I guess my memories are still a little too fresh. The concept of the stork coming to deliver the baby on the door step is really looking good right now. I want the baby, but not the fat-faced, small-bladdered, moody, irritable, pukey, swollen beast I become when pregnant. Can someone show me a loophole? PRETTY PLEASE?????