Saturday, May 30, 2015

Shhh, don't tell. It's a secret!

We're trying for number 3. The Little Prince is sleeping through the night and the Bright Spark is in full-time school. We seem to have the fine balance of work and life sorted out (this week anyway). So we've decided to throw a spanner in the works and have our third child.

And it feels like one of those presents you give yourself, that is for no one else. Everybody is excited when the first one is on it's way; grandparents, great grandparents, aunts and uncles. Friends tell you stories about their births and give you "useful" (and mostly unsolicited) advice. When you have number two it was a given that you would give the first one a sibling. When I told my head of learning area I was expecting my second child he told me this story about a friend of his whose only child had had to play alone in the dirt because he didn't have a sibling - and then he died and his parents were left childless.

But number 3 is not expected. In fact, in the climate of economic down turn and sustainable living, it seems like an extravagance. We are not just replacing ourself in this planet, but adding to the burden (although the two unmarried brothers who will probably remain childless make us feel like this is less of a burden). And how will we pay for this one? We're still getting over the financial hit of the second one.

And the clock is ticking. It was mentioned in passing by my obstetrician after the Little Prince was born that I shouldn't leave such a big gap before the next one, that having a baby on the "wrong side" of 35 is something to avoid. At the ancient age of 36 my ovaries are shrivelling and my eggs are developing random chromosomal abnormalities and the chance of having a child with a chromosomal fault increases massively. Not. The odds are still very much in my favour of having a perfectly healthy child. I have friends whose perfectly healthy children were conceived when thy were well into their late 30's to give me confidence I will also have a perfectly healthy child.

But really we have wanted a third for a while. When discussions were had between the Husband and I when he was still the Boyfriend, he wanted three, I wanted two. It was stated that negotiations would be had at a later date - maybe he could get pregnant with the third one? But over the years I've come around to the idea. I come from a family of four kids. There was always someone else to play with, to talk to. When my parents separated we were a pack, supporting each other and sharing the childhood burden of our parents broken marriage. Although we're not particularly close as adults, we still see each other regularly and are a part of each others lives and we are there for each other. The Husband has one brother. He suffers from debilitating mental health issues, partly caused by the death of his mother. The Husband also has chronic depression stemming from the death of his mother, and carries the burden of worry for his brother. There is no other sibling to share this burden with. He doesn't have a pack.

So we finally decided to jump off the cliff together and leave the condoms in the box. Life has gotten a little easier this year and the kids are getting more independent. We have decide to use the public health system instead of paying to go private; this is the birth the government pays for. We made it through the last lot of maternity leave without going bankrupt so I'm sure we can do it again. I'm more secure about our finances, we seemed to do ok with the first two and we will go into debt when I'm on leave but we will pay it off when I go back to work.

Now I just have to keep it a secret. A secret that we are trying for our little extravagance. I get to wander around with that "I'm trying to make a little human and having lots of sex" smile that makes me look like I'm just having a good day.