I am really sick. It’s been coming on for a few days, and peaked last night. Intense nausea and body aches is basically what’s going on. It felt very…familiar. It felt exactly like morning sickness, which in my experience was all-day sickness or evening-sucks sickness.

I was completely convinced that we were pregnant.

After three tests, I’m pretty convinced we’re not, but believing with all my heart that we were for a short while brought up a lot. I was both excited and terrified. First of all, I remembered all the good stuff about being pregnant and am always saying how much I miss it…until I experienced this nausea and smell sensitivity. Then it all came rushing back: Six weeks of sick. Heartburn. Restless Leg Syndrome. Insomnia. And I would be doing that with a TODDLER who poops and cries and needs to eat every day and get some exercise. I was confused about how exactly I would survive the first trimester as lifting my head up alone felt like a monumental task, much less being a mama. I also questioned how it could be possible to love another child as much as I love Ian, and how another child could ever compare to him. And of course I worried about finances and space and how it would effect my marriage. The thing is, our life is pretty damn sweet the way it is.

On the other side of the coin, I was incredibly heartened by my husband’s reaction to the notion that we may be bringing another child into the world. He was completely surrendered and fine with it, which is to be expected since I can’t exactly conceive a child by myself, and while we have in no way been actively trying, we’re also not actively trying to not try (cryptic enough?). His reaction alone kind of made me want it to be true, since he’s always been much more confident of being “done” having kids than I have. We had this amazing moment in the car with Austin and Ian, blaring Austin’s favorite songs, everyone singing, sun shining and I thought, YES, let’s do it, hell, let’s have three more! Let’s have a gaggle and live in a big messy old house and play music all day. We’ll live on rice and beans and laughter.

The resolution? There is none. No baby for now, and I suppose we’ll just keep talking about it. When I’m having a hard day with Ian, my mantra is, “I only have to do this once.” On the not hard days, of which there are many, I mourn the time passing so quickly and marvel at his development with equal parts smiles and tears. As a dear friend said yesterday at his son’s first birthday party, “This is what life is about. There’s really nothing else.”

I’ll leave you with two of my sweet men enjoying a Sunday treat while I convalesced on the couch.