The mad dash and other insane punctuation marks
Dan and I are sort of having a contest of wills*. This is a little difficult to explain, because it sounds as though there must be a degree of animosity involved or something (and I usually only write about him when I have a complaint, so you probably think the worst of him although he's a really sweet human), but in fact it's all quite pleasant and sporting. A gentleman's game, really. It's going to sound odd, but the gist of it is that I'm trying to get pregnant, and he isn't.
Now, of course he can't get pregnant anyway, so I guess we both win. Obviously, though, that's not what this is about. See, I have long thought about having a second child for several reasons: I want Wee Boy to have an understanding of sibling dynamics. Roughly translated from me-speak into English, that means he can learn diplomacy and parenting and gentleness through helping with a smaller sprog. I like the idea of said smaller sprog also having an older brother from whom to learn. Plus, humans are cool and I want to meet another new one. Everybody wins.
Except Dan.
Kind of.
See, he "doesn't want" more children. Having Crohn's disease makes him tired all the time, and stress affects him more than it does most of us, and he's always concerned about what will happen to the family if he should become seriously ill. He currently afflicted with bleeding ulcers, and that's par for the course, so you can imagine what "ill" amounts to for him.
He has a daughter from a previous relationship, and she's the same age as Wee Boy. His ex harassed him until he agreed to have a baby with her (his fault for not sticking up for himself, really) even though he was already pretty sure that the relationship wasn't going to go well, or far. Yes, lead balloons and square tires... you get the idea.
So now he has what amounts to a semi-phobia of planning another child. I can definitely see his point, but he wound up doing all the work with Wee Girl because his ex was on drugs and had serious bonding issues with the baby. Then he got sick, she got caught driving drunk with the baby in the car, and their life went to hell. It's really an unhappy tale, and one that probably doesn't belong here. Suffice it to say that she managed to move out and take the kid while he was at death's door- one of the many cases that has fallen between the cracks in Ontario child protection.
Wee Girl's mother is doing a lot better these days, so we make nice and don't rock the boat. Dan, however, still seems to believe somewhere inside him that a baby means a hell of a lot of work for him. My argument is that this isn't the case: I did it all on my own with Wee Boy, and compared to that, between the two of us it'd be a breeze. A very exhausting breeze full of diapers, yes, but a breeze nonetheless. I'm not his ex, and I bonded with my son very well, and I love doing all the parenting stuff required at that age. Babies are comparatively easy: they don't try to run in front of cars, eat bugs, or climb the furniture. That stuff comes later; about the time you start getting to sleep through the night again.
So, we've presented our different sides of the argument, and discussed the whole thing, and come to a weird consensus over a period of several months: If I get pregnant "by accident", great! If not, great!
The game is on.
The rules are simple: I'm not to put holes in the condoms, he's not to secretly have a vasectomy (although we are currently trying to get him an appointment to get one - he just can't hide having it done), basically, we have to be ethical and just keep rolling the dice.
Although he claims to not like the idea of "planning" a kid, he's frequently talking about what we'd name our son, if we had one. He jokes around about it and we're occasionally less than careful not to conceive, so I take that as his mind not being fully made up.
You know, it'd be cool to have another child. They're so interesting. I love humans and I don't mind bringing one more into the world. Obviously, there's a lot of work involved, but it's good work and it means something. I also am fully okay with not having another kid. Wee Boy wants a brother, but if he doesn't get one it won't destroy him. It won't destroy me either: I'm leaving it up to Fate. Like paying a lottery I can't lose.
ETA: Just to clarify; Dan and I are on the same page, we just decided to assume that what is meant to be will be. He has said, for the record, that if I do become pregnant he will be excited. This isn't some kind of slow-mo Kung Fu smackdown: we're cool and both of us fine with whatever happens, either way. I apologise for not making that clear at first.
*only inasmuch as I am willing myself to become pregnant, and he isn't actively doing so.
Now, of course he can't get pregnant anyway, so I guess we both win. Obviously, though, that's not what this is about. See, I have long thought about having a second child for several reasons: I want Wee Boy to have an understanding of sibling dynamics. Roughly translated from me-speak into English, that means he can learn diplomacy and parenting and gentleness through helping with a smaller sprog. I like the idea of said smaller sprog also having an older brother from whom to learn. Plus, humans are cool and I want to meet another new one. Everybody wins.
Except Dan.
Kind of.
See, he "doesn't want" more children. Having Crohn's disease makes him tired all the time, and stress affects him more than it does most of us, and he's always concerned about what will happen to the family if he should become seriously ill. He currently afflicted with bleeding ulcers, and that's par for the course, so you can imagine what "ill" amounts to for him.
He has a daughter from a previous relationship, and she's the same age as Wee Boy. His ex harassed him until he agreed to have a baby with her (his fault for not sticking up for himself, really) even though he was already pretty sure that the relationship wasn't going to go well, or far. Yes, lead balloons and square tires... you get the idea.
So now he has what amounts to a semi-phobia of planning another child. I can definitely see his point, but he wound up doing all the work with Wee Girl because his ex was on drugs and had serious bonding issues with the baby. Then he got sick, she got caught driving drunk with the baby in the car, and their life went to hell. It's really an unhappy tale, and one that probably doesn't belong here. Suffice it to say that she managed to move out and take the kid while he was at death's door- one of the many cases that has fallen between the cracks in Ontario child protection.
Wee Girl's mother is doing a lot better these days, so we make nice and don't rock the boat. Dan, however, still seems to believe somewhere inside him that a baby means a hell of a lot of work for him. My argument is that this isn't the case: I did it all on my own with Wee Boy, and compared to that, between the two of us it'd be a breeze. A very exhausting breeze full of diapers, yes, but a breeze nonetheless. I'm not his ex, and I bonded with my son very well, and I love doing all the parenting stuff required at that age. Babies are comparatively easy: they don't try to run in front of cars, eat bugs, or climb the furniture. That stuff comes later; about the time you start getting to sleep through the night again.
So, we've presented our different sides of the argument, and discussed the whole thing, and come to a weird consensus over a period of several months: If I get pregnant "by accident", great! If not, great!
The game is on.
The rules are simple: I'm not to put holes in the condoms, he's not to secretly have a vasectomy (although we are currently trying to get him an appointment to get one - he just can't hide having it done), basically, we have to be ethical and just keep rolling the dice.
Although he claims to not like the idea of "planning" a kid, he's frequently talking about what we'd name our son, if we had one. He jokes around about it and we're occasionally less than careful not to conceive, so I take that as his mind not being fully made up.
You know, it'd be cool to have another child. They're so interesting. I love humans and I don't mind bringing one more into the world. Obviously, there's a lot of work involved, but it's good work and it means something. I also am fully okay with not having another kid. Wee Boy wants a brother, but if he doesn't get one it won't destroy him. It won't destroy me either: I'm leaving it up to Fate. Like paying a lottery I can't lose.
ETA: Just to clarify; Dan and I are on the same page, we just decided to assume that what is meant to be will be. He has said, for the record, that if I do become pregnant he will be excited. This isn't some kind of slow-mo Kung Fu smackdown: we're cool and both of us fine with whatever happens, either way. I apologise for not making that clear at first.
*only inasmuch as I am willing myself to become pregnant, and he isn't actively doing so.