With the birth of Pippa’s bouncing baby boy (all nearly 9 lbs of him-wow) and Meghan and Harry’s happy announcement, I’m admittedly broodier than ever. Yes, that’s how impressionable I am!!! A few high profile people announce babies and pregnancies and my ovaries go into overdrive. Thankfully, I’m not alone as lots of you said the same over on my recent Instagram post where I shared Pippa’s news.
To be honest, I’ve felt broody on and off for years (mostly on) but my husband Peter, hasn’t.
I always imagined a house full of children-this was imagined pre first child btw so perhaps a little ambitious- but I’ve always been maternal. I thought I’d have four kids at least. Maybe I will. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink Peter. Peter rarely reads my blog but I might just send him this post straight to his inbox!
Life is busy, boy is it busy, and there’s never a right time to have a baby huh, but you never regret a child right and if we’re lucky enough to have another one (or two), I know while there would be challenges ahead and the juggle would be full-on, it would all be worth it.
Of course it would, plus it’s a juggle with challenges right now, with two children and friends with three said the jump from 1-2 was harder than 2-3 (they better not be lying)!
…Nothing matters more to me than my kids and motherhood.
I’m obsessed with my sons (Oliver is the baby above, Alexander below), they’re my greatest gifts, and success of all. They give me purpose and most of all, joy. We have so much fun together. Yes. life can be stressful with kids but I live for that sweet love, that all consuming, unconditional love I have for them. It’s worth every sleepless night and temper tantrum a million times over.
I definitely don’t feel ‘done’ when it comes to pregnancy and squishy honey-scented babies and it’s not because I want a girl, I would never have wanted my boys to have been girls, I simply want another child.
Alexander recently turned 6, Oliver is 9 in January and I’m 38 next month in November. The biological clock is somewhat ticking. The age-gap is growing.
I certainly don’t feel old despite the fact I would be termed a geriatric mum if I was to have a baby now (what an archaic and futile term for pregnant mums over 35 that is, as most women have their first babies in their late 30s and early 40s these days) but I’m fully aware that pregnancy for me has never been a walk/waddle in the park.
I had pregnancy liver condition ICP and an emergency section and traumatic birth with Oliver, and an acute water infection with Alexander which resulted in a 10 day hospital stay. Of course those experiences worry me.
I also think being pregnant and juggling other children and a busy career could be tough-going but after dealing two physically and emotionally demanding years with family illness and the death of my beloved aunt and a big thyroid operation, I’ve discovered quite how strong I am. Am I scared? Of course I am? Is another baby imminent? Probably not (we need to get Peter on board first) but I am ready to start considering the challenge. To at least return to the conversation and think about adding to the brood.
I’m just not sure Peter is…#comeonpeter!
Just look at this photo of you holding Oliver’s baby hand!
Poor P! No pressure *Googles unisex babygrows!
Are you blooming broody too?