When Archer was born, I knew he wasn't going to be an only child. I knew this because we didn't want him to be an only child, because if we were going to have one child we were going to have two. That was the rule. Hell! I couldn't even have one dog without feeling like I was depriving him of a playmate. After having my dog, Cooper for four-months, I found him a sibling. And when Archer was 3.5, Fable was born.

I always knew I wanted two kids. I never even thought to want more. I figured that regardless of their sex, two would be plenty of children for us. My entire pregnancy with Fable I kept thinking, it would be my last. The last time I'd ever be pregnant. The last time I'd ever give birth. Enjoy these last few months. Savor the suspense, revel in the excitement and the sweetness of newborn toes...

And that I did. I moped and whined and begged Fable to stay a baby because she was "our last." I recorded my pregnancy with photos and wrote tediously about my experience but then Fable was born and my second thought after: holy fuck, I love this girl more than I ever thought I could ever ... was: holy fuck, we're not done. We're not all here. The feeling was so overwhelming to me, I almost felt guilty. How could I possibly be thinking of another child right now? There is a newborn baby in my arms and she's mine!
But the truth is that I did.
At first I thought it was the adrenaline - the rush most mothers get after giving birth. The "put me back in the ring, bob. I AM WOMAN!!! POW!" kind of high that with Fable didn't go away for several months. (I diagnosed myself as having postpartum euphoria, which is kind of like postpartum depression except instead of feeling sad you feel sublimely, maniacally happy, which is how I felt for many months after Fable was born. Don't believe me? Read the archives of this here blog. You'll want to punch me in the throat.)
I figured that eventually I would crash, (which I did) come back to earth and come to my two-children-is-plenty-for-us senses. But no. Months passed, an IUD was inserted, my hormones calmed down and yet... no change. The voice in my ear was just as shrill. The "Hi! I'm your future baby! Don't forget about me! I'll just be here, kicking around in your brain for the next few years until you're ready for me and by the way, do NOT wear those shoes with that dress. Wear the red ones. No, not those red ones, the other red ones. There you go. Much better..." voice.
And so. It rides on...
...And some days the voice is so damn loud I have to cover my ears and tell it to SHUT THE FUCK UP so I can concentrate on living my life and taking care of the children I have. Like right now, for instance. Sheesh, voice. Sheesh.
So basically, here's the thing.
All those times I said we were done having kids?
I was lying.
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