For weeks after I had Sylvia I wanted to have another baby. Like right then. Like if I'd been able to get pregnant immediately, I would have. I was intensely jealous of any pregnant woman I saw. I'd see pregnant women at the store, or hear about friends getting pregnant and I'd feel this almost physical tweak in my heart, like I wish I were you, I wish I were looking forward to labor and giving birth and holding a brand-new infant in my arms. I'm sure it was just hormones and the incredible rush of giving birth, but I seriously wanted to have another baby. IMMEDIATELY.
The pangs of jealousy faded as the months went by, and I obviously didn't get pregnant again immediately, but the feelings never completely went away until I got pregnant with Paul. Immediately after I had Paul I was again jealous of pregnant women, but this time it was more superficial and faded very quickly. Now I can see my friends announcing pregnancies and new births and it doesn't feel like I'm being stabbed in the chest. I don't long to feel someone kicking me in the ribs anymore, or wish my sense of smell were so heightened the smell of dried thyme or bad meat sends me to the toilet.
I thought I'd want another kid. I think I kind of still do, but I'm happy with my family. I feel like we're complete at four. Maybe I'll change my mind later; maybe once our big move is over I'll get baby hungry again. I can't get pregnant for the first year we're in Australia anyway--the insurance won't cover it. So I know I'll be waiting, no matter what. I'm wondering if I'll be waiting or simply putting aside thoughts of another child completely. In some ways that's a relief; in others, incredibly sad.