Before I had a baby, I was under the impression that the experience of giving birth and the chaos that followed were generally enough to put you off having any more for quite a while.  Anybody I talked to about it said that for a long time after their babies were born their thoughts on the subject of number two were of the ‘never again’ variety.  I surprised myself by feeling broody just a few months after Bubs was born; I guess as the result of crazy hormones, newfound confidence in my abilities as a mum and, if I’m honest, a deep-seated desire to have another crack at giving birth, in hopes of succeeding where I felt I had previously failed.  I suppose I knew that having another baby so soon would have been madness, but as time has gone on I’ve become increasingly broody – and increasingly torn about when the right time might be to have another child.

Is there ever a ‘right time’?

When Bubs was tiny my reasons for not having another were very much physical.  I was still recovering from a c-section, I was breastfeeding, sleep deprived and never seemed to have enough time or enough hands to do the things I needed to do.  If we were both washed and dressed by lunchtime it was nothing short of a miracle.  These days, I’m a dab hand at this mummy lark; we have our little routine, Bubs is a content little boy who’s easy to work with and the older he gets the more I can imagine how I might cope with two – although I’m under no illusions about how much hard work will be involved.  What’s more, I can see how much Bubs enjoys interacting with other children and I know I don’t want to wait too long to give him a sibling.

The trouble now is that I’m enjoying being a mum more than I ever have.  I’m the first to admit that I found those newborn days really hard, especially the first six weeks when I felt so completely overwhelmed by it all that I could barely function.  After that, I didn’t get a full night’s sleep for nine whole months and until we stopped breastfeeding at a year I had to be near him (and sober) all the time, which meant very little ‘me’ time.

Now, I’m enjoying my newfound freedom, and also enjoying the wonderful little boy Bubs has become.  I know where we stand; when he will be hungry and when he needs to sleep.  He mostly manages not to do the kind of poos that require an impromptu bath and a complete change of clothes for us both.  He’s chattering away, almost walking, interacting with us in a way that makes my heart soar.  It’s truly amazing to watch and I don’t want to miss a single second of it.  But what would happen if I had another baby demanding my time and energy, keeping me awake at night, wanting to feed for hours at a time?  How would I manage?  How would Bubs manage – would he hate the new baby, or me for not being able to give him my undivided attention?  Would I look at him one day and realise I’d missed a whole chunk of his precious, precious toddlerhood?

Am I being selfish?

And what’s the real reason for my broodiness?  Do I really want another child and a sibling for Bubs?  Or do I just miss being pregnant – my lovely bump, those magical kicks, how special I felt, the excitement, the way it brought me and the Hubber so much closer?  Am I just being selfish?

I guess all mums feel like this.  It’s a logical extension of the worry and endless guilt that comes with motherhood – no decision about your child, not even what you feed them for breakfast, is made without a good deal of soul-searching and fretting about the long term impact on their psychological wellbeing.   All I can compare it to is a skydive I once did.  I crapped myself all the way to 13,000 feet in this rickety wee plane and even though I really, really wanted to jump, I know I never would have had it not been for the friendly instructor strapped to my back shoving me out the door.  And then we were falling at like 150 mph, and instead of screaming or worrying that I might die, I remember feeling just completely exhilarated and alive. That’s how I want to feel about having another baby – a ‘feel the fear and do it anyway’ moment.   Now all I need is a friendly push.