"Hello?" I called out cautiously before entering the hospital room.
"Come in!" came the familiar, cheerful reply.
Stepping into the maternity suite in the same hospital where I delivered Lincoln brought back so many feelings and emotions. Just about a year ago, I was the one laying on that bed with no idea of what to expect, wild-eyed and sleep deprived, forever changed without fully understanding how.
This time, it was my dear friend who had just delivered her third child. She was a vet and it showed. She was a natural beauty relaxing in her comfy pajamas in the sofa by the window. The day I delivered Lincoln, I distinctly remember leaving the bed only to begrudgingly pee. She, however, appeared totally comfortable and moved about the room effortlessly, completely unfazed by her daughter's adorable whimpers. Even her husband was proudly dressed in a pink polo to welcome his new baby girl into the world. I smiled to myself.
Next time I'll be so much more prepared.
As soon as I saw her sweet baby girl sleeping on her boppy, I immediately wanted to hold her. She was TINY, and boy was she was cute! Cuddling her little frame, I tried to think back to a time when Lincoln was that small, but no memories came to mind. Instead, he stared at me curiously from his stroller.
"See the baby?" I asked him. "This is a baby! You were a baby too."
Holding that precious child, so new and awesome smelling, I got that itch. You know - the one God gives mothers to convince us to go through all the trouble all over again.
I wanted another one.
I've always wanted another one, but to be perfectly honest, I have no idea how I'll find the time to do any more than I'm doing right now. My house is a mess most days. Our pile of laundry looks more like a small mountain. And I can't remember the last time I cooked a homemade meal for anyone other than Lincoln. This is the new normal.
And yet holding that darling baby, I had the strongest desire for another little one all my own. Admittedly, I struggle a lot with the timing. I just went back to work three months ago. Now, Lord? Really? Can I really work with two kids? What would I do with myself when I get bored? Shouldn't we build up our savings first?
I have more questions than answers.
Back in the hospital room, Lincoln was out of his stroller and tearing up everything he could get his hands on. I gently handed the baby back to her mother and admired from a distance while I chased after Lincoln.
"You're already tired," a coworker told me at work today. "So what's one more?"
Maybe she's right. Maybe it's not as big a deal as I'm making it out to be. Oh Lord, please help me to know when the time is right.