The heart of the matter

I usually write about the day to day life, joy and struggles of motherhood.

I don't dive into difficult, sensitive, complex subjects.

Like the right to own a gun.

Or the real price of cheap clothes.

Or high fructose corn syrup.

Or abortion.

This time, however I decided to write my thoughts on the latter.

These are just that.

My thoughts.

My opinions.

You can agree or disagree.

I am past that point of getting into endless debates, discussing various scenarios to prove one point or the other. 

I used to believe abortion was ok. 

After all, life is tough and hard and there are so many situations when expecting a child is the worst news you can possibly get or at least that's what you think.

Then, a few years ago I saw the movie "The Silent Scream" where an abortion is actually filmed with the help of the ultrasound.

I remember I broke down and cried.

A feeling of dread and indescribable pain came over me combined with a strong desire of protecting little ones.

It has never left me.

It only grew stronger over time. 

When I was pregnant with my daughter after a miscarriage, I was terrified I would lose her too. 

The doctors did extra tests and ultrasounds to make sure things were ok.

Which meant I got my first ultrasound very early. 

At 6 weeks and 5 days. 

My husband and I went in and I was scared, worried and a complete mess.

But things went well.

And on the screen, there it was, the thing we had been hoping and praying to see.

The baby's heart.

Beating away wildly with great passion and determination. 

I still have the picture. 

The next ultrasound was at 8 weeks.

Things were good.

The doctor jokingly said "Your gummy bear is just fine".

Because that's what she looked like back then with her tiny arms and legs. 

Sometimes when my daughter is asleep, nursing peacefully I lay my hand on her chest.

Her heart still strong, beating away, filled with life.

The same heart we saw more than 3 years ago.

I have no doubt in my mind that the tiny thing we saw at the beginning and at every consultation afterwards was my child.

She was just very little back then but already she had everything she needed to grow just like she does now when she is 2.5 years old. 

She had human DNA, a human's heart and at 8 weeks, a human head and limbs. 

Many will say a child is not a child at that stage.

Other words are used.

Like fetus and pregnancy.

Anything to distance ourselves from the reality of a "baby", "child" or "tiny human".

Because if we didn't, abortion would be unbearable. 

Many will say at this stage, the fetus is not a human.

But how can we trust our current definition of what being human means?

We used to define slaves as non-human.

Coloured people.

Jews.

Twins.

Homosexuals. 

Even women.

At some  point in history, all these categories were considered sub-human or non-human.

So now we have another category, the unborn child. 

And we're supposed to believe the arguments because...?

The relationship between a mother and a child is like nothing else in this world.

My daughter is my child, she lives in my house and eats my food (most of the time, anyway).

But she is not my person. I don't own her.

I never have.

She is just very very close to me at the beginning when she is in my tummy.

And then slowly she becomes more and more detached from me over the years.

My body is not only mine, it is hers as well during pregnancy.

Letting her be part of me is beautiful.

It is the most one can give another human being who is as defenseless as it can possibly be.

And the real test of being human is just this: how we treat those who depend on us completely, whom we have nothing to gain from, who cannot repay us, whom we can do anything we please with because we are all they know. 

They count on us so completely, it scares us. 

We have no choice but to show them who we really are.

We don't need to hide behind social norms, politeness, masks, flattery, give-and-take games. 

They just want us. 

Children.

Animals.

And sometimes the elderly. 

We can be cruel to them.

We can deny them anything, including life itself.

They cannot fight back. 

Or we can take them in.

Accept them.

Accept that life with them is worth more than life without them.

They ask a lot from us and by giving it to them, we will become more that we have ever thought possible. 

We have one more heart in the world we can love and who will love us back, one more heart to help heal when broken and who will help ours heal.  

May all hearts be blessed, big and small!

Blaming Mom

A couple of days ago I talked to my grandmother on skype.

She is 87 years old and quite amazing I might add.

She is my dad's mom and the only grandparent I have left.

She is energetic and kind and just really sweet.

We talked about a lot of things but one issue she mentioned really got me thinking.

It's a story I have heard many times before, as older people like to repeat the parts of their lives they find important.

She told me again about the time her mom (my great-grandmother) forced her to eat tomato soup because that was the rule at the table and how she got really sick after that.

And how her own grandmother came to her rescue by making it clear that forcing someone, especially a child, to eat like that is unacceptable.

My great-grandmother has been dead for 20 years.

Still, my grandma remembers stories like this very vividly and feels the need to tell them to me once in a while.

When I was little and would visit my grandma and my great-grandma who lived very close, I remember noticing how my grandma would be slightly irritated by her mom. Sometimes she would snap at her.

Then, when my great-grandma died, my grandma was devastated.

I recall her crying at the funeral, overcome with terrible grief and sadness.

I was 8 or 9 years old at the time and I clearly remember thinking "Why is she so sad? She was always so annoyed by her, by the things that she had hurt her with while growing up and afterwards".

There was a similar pattern with my mom and her own mother.

Whenever she came over to talk to my mom there would be arguments.

Not real loud fights or anything but arguments nonetheless.

My mom would be irritated and even angry.

I know many of my mom's stories about the ways her mom had failed her, hurt her or disappointed her and some of those are not nice stories at all hence why she remembers them.

Then, when my maternal grandma died and I came home from college for the funeral, I found my mom in an unrecognizable state.

She was a shadow of herself.

I did not understand why she was so devastated when they never seemed to get along and there were those deep wounds that never seemed to heal.

Fast forward to the present day, I so happened to bump into some articles about motherhood that somehow all ended up about being the shortcomings of different mothers.

An article about how someone sat on a train and was shocked to see a mom read a book and not interact with her 10 year old son.

A discussion about a movie and how the mom was to blame because she had encouraged the child to put on a happy face in a difficult situation (thus indirectly prompting the child to repress some emotions).

Another article about how someone called the police on a mom who was trying to strap her screaming tantruming toddler in a stroller.

All this made me think about my own mom.

Do I blame her for things?

Yes, I do.

Do I remember vividly the times when she snapped at me, yelled at me, ignored me in a critical moment, criticized me or hurt me in any way?

Yes, very clearly.

My mom failed me quite a few times.

How could she not?

She is only human.

And throughout a lifetime, you have many opportunities to fail the people you love and you will fail them, unavoidably.

Could she have done worse?

Oh yes, very much so.

But somehow it seems that in today's world when we know so much about psychology and how wounds from the past shape us and sometimes incapacitate us, it is so very easy to look back and say:

I am like this because my mom did or did not do something for me.

She really hurt me and some sides of me suffered and I became different.

Smaller, cheaper, not whole

She can rightly be blamed.

There were others too, but she started it.

For some people, the things that were done to them are tragic.

But even those from "regular families" have their big bag of hurtful things to carry.

My daughter is two and a half.

I often think of myself as the memory I will be for her in the future.

I wonder what she will see me like, remember me like.

She cannot remember things yet and already I know I have started building her bag.

She can already blame me for failing her at times when I was impatient or angry or indifferent.

I am sure she will have a lot more to blame me for when she is older.

It will be her choice whether to do that or not.

I try to be a good mom, a present mom.

But I also want to set an example by telling her about the amazing things my own mom has done for me.

I might tell her when she is older that my mom gave me time-outs when I was little and would lock me in my room and I would be completely terrified and thinking she left and didn't love me anymore (mind you, many books still say this a good way to discipline a child); and that that is why I would never do that to her.

But mostly, I want to tell her how my mom was wonderful in her support in everything I did and the way she took care of me when I was sick and would listen to me talk about my crushes, my grades, my friends, my teachers and my homework.

I haven't seen my mom in year, we live so far away.

Our talks on skype are sometimes nice and sometimes can feel like a chore which is sad.

But sometimes, like yesterday, we talk for two hours and I feel I can tell her about my worries, my struggles and my problems.

Because she is there. She's always been there.

And I am tired of blaming mom.

Because, honestly, it's not fair that our emotional memory remembers the bad things so easily and so vividly and takes the good moments for granted.

I hope when my daughter is 87 and she talks to someone about me she will say

"My mom, she was completely absent/hurtful that time when things were bad.

But the next time she was there. And the time after that. And I am glad she was."

When Mommy and Kiddo are out of sync

Today's been one of those off days.

When, despite my best efforts and intentions, my moods don't match my daughter's moods and we end up clashing multiple times throughout the day.

So by the time she is asleep I feel a bit sad.

And a bit nostalgic.

And a bit confused.

I keep thinking about what went wrong, what I could have and should have done differently. 

And then I end of thinking deep thoughts about raising children.

And the passing of time.

And mortality.

Stuff like that. 

Before I had kids, my head was filled with all these ideas about what me and my child/children would do together one day.

I am not sure where I got them... movies, books, my own childhood, friends...

Suffice to say, my vision of what it meant to be with my child was born a long time ago.

And it is on days like today that my vision gets chipped at and needs readjustment or postponing or even a rewrite. 

I will give you some examples.

Not all of them are from today but quite a few are.

I like to dance. I always have.

I am pretty good at it too. 

So sometimes, when the moment is "just right", I start dancing in the house and I don't even notice. 

A children's song might be playing or something on the radio or just something in my head.

Inevitably, my daughter will say: "Mommy, please don't dance". 

Very matter of factly. Very politely. 

I don't know why it annoys her. 

But it does. 

Every time. 

If I try to get her to do a silly dance with me right there in the kitchen, she gets very upset. 

I always imagined me and my kids dancing together around the house.

Inventing crazy moves. 

Stuff like that.

Maybe one day.

It's the same with singing.

Loud Baby simply can't stand it.

Not even if I hum. 

"Mommy, don't sing, please".

I can't explain it, but it breaks my heart.

I always thought my child would love to listen to my songs and be soothed by them.

I am not Celine Dion but there are songs that I can sing well. 

And my daughter is not 14, she is 2. 

Am I embarrassing her already?

The problem is that even if I explain to her that Mommy likes to sing/dance and you can't demand that she stops, the moment is gone.

I don't feel like dancing or singing anymore anyway. 

Or she doesn't like hugs much and I am crazy about them.

Or I want to show her something fun and she refuses to even come take a look. 

Or I am all excited about a new place I've found (a park, an outdoor swimming pool, a zoo) and she hates it and cries throughout our whole outing. 

Or I want to tell her all the ways in which I love her (as much as the moon, as much as a huge cherry) and it just makes her cranky and she screams "Noo". 

How can we be so out of synch, I wonder. 

So I take a deep breath, accept that she is just not in the mood for all of my silliness and lovey-loveyness and try to get down to business.

I start cooking, I shoot up the laptop to do some budgeting, I clean up or I make a call that's been long due. 

After 4 minutes, my daughter makes her appearance along with her 394 demands.

"Mommy, come chase me".

"Mommy, where is my ball?"

"Mommy, come build tower".

"Mommy, I want apple/yoghurt/crackers".

"Mommy, where is XYZ wooden figurine? Help me find."

"Mommy, put on music, please, the one with the frogs".

"Mommy, tell story with red bicycle" (I tell that one at least 10 times every day). 

"Mommy, read this and this and that book and then that one again". 

"Mommy" x 148.

Of course, I feel like doing exactly zero of all of these.

I give her the snack, put on the music, try to remember where the freakin' wooden figurine might be (again).

I tell her I will finish the food/call/work on the computer and then we will 

play/read/build.

"No. Now!!" 

A mixture of anger, annoyance and sadness take shape.

Maybe I'm raising a brat.

Maybe she's just tired.

Maybe she's being two.

Maybe she's hungry already.

Maybe it's a cranky day.

Maybe my mother-in-law was right and I messed up badly along the way. 

Should I reason with her?

Should I be stern?

Should I acknowledge her frustration and work through it? 

(Is something burning? Did I set the kitchen  timer?

Are all moms a mess like me in moments like these?).

My daughter wants me badly. 

She needs me because she is little and little ones need their parents.

But she needs me on her own terms. 

Which are not my terms, most of the time.

So we clash. 

I reason, she understands and waits.

And then she doesn't. 

I give warnings.

I tell her we will go to the playground after lunch.

"No playground".

"No underwear"

"No, I don't want T-shirt with mermaid"

"No carseat".

"No slide" (after dragging me to go with her on the slide).

"No, it is not too high" (when I tell her not to climb something that is too high off the ground).

"No, mommy not tired" (after I tell her I feel tired).

By the time my husband is home, I am ready with a begging speech to ask him to do the bedtime routine although it is my turn tonight. 

And when it's finally quiet and I feel a bit empty, a bit disoriented but also a bit happy that everyone's made it through the day, I also wonder where the line is between being an involved parent and a slave to a child-king. 

Where am I situated?

What should I change?

And while I figure it out, while everyone is already asleep, I might just put on my headphones and listen to some music.

And I might even dance just a bit. 

 

 

No drama Momma

A friend  of mine dropped in one afternoon.

The apartment was clean, almost all the toys were in their place and I had recently finished vacuuming.
"Wow, your place looks great.", she said.

On a different day the same friend (also a mommy) stopped by with some toys she was lending us. 

This time, the place was a mess. Toys everywhere, some clothes here and there. 

My daughter and I were sitting on the floor building a tower of blocks.

"Wow girls, you look like you're having a lot of fun", she said.

There are people who will always find something nice to say to you regardless of who you are and what you are doing. They lift you up and are a pleasure to be around because you feel safe. They won't judge you for your messy living room, your screaming child or your parenting methods. They won't judge other parents and non-parents alike.

After my previous post about "Why mom can't do it all", I received two kinds of messages. 

Messages of appreciation and messages from outraged moms who thought the post was the rant of a brat.

I was told to grow-up.

To get a job.

To stop being self-indulgent.

To stop being a martyr and make other moms look bad with my whining. 

To just figure it out and suck it up and be the parent I needed to be. 

To not have meltdowns. 

To stop blogging and then I might get more done around the house. 

I have one child who sleeps at night and a husband. 

Hence, I have to be able to do it all.

I was told moms do nothing but whine lately and write about how hard it is for them when all they are doing is a simple job. 

It's not that hard, they said.

They themselves work and have time to cook every day.

Or they stay at home and enjoy it and it's no big deal to them.

They don't scream at their kids. 

They don't slam doors.

And that is, I think, really awesome, that they can do it like that.

 It's just parenting, it's not rocket science. They say. 

And they are right.

It's not rocket science.

I could blog about other things than the hardships of parenting (or at least, what I consider hardships). 

But being a parent is, right now, the most important aspect of my life and that is what fills my head and my heart. 

So that's what I write about.

Are there too many blogs out there of the sort with moms "whining" like me?

Probably.

I wonder why. 

Could it be because in real life it is hard to find a friend you can actually tell "Look, I messed up the other day. I feel like I suck as a parent. And being a good parent is the most important thing to me right now"- without wondering if they will judge you, without wondering if they will frown and say "Lady, figure it out. You're an adult". 

Because most of us are parents and have strong opinions about parenting.

I could write about the joys of staying up until 3 a.m. studying for exams but that wouldn't interest too many people. 

Anyway, when someone attacks you like that, your immediate instinct is to protect yourself.

You want to tell them why you can't have a job right now.

Or that you do cook every day most of the time.
Or that you blog once or twice per month. 
Or that most days are quite ok, there's no drama (except for toddler tantrums).
Or that you don't usually yell and you make it your goal not to.

Or that you don't have meltdowns all the time but it did happen and it was an awful day with tons of problems and an extremely cranky toddler.
Or that you chose to write about these worst moments to show that we are all vulnerable and sometimes maxed out, regardless of who we are and what we do.
Or that,as far as you can tell, every mom is simply trying to do her best with whatever financial and emotional resources she has. 

And none of it matters.

Because it all depends on what eye they are using to look at you.

If they use a good eye, they don't need your explanations.

Their assumptions about you are positive to begin with. 

If they use the evil eye, you can try to justify yourself all you want.

They will still find a way to judge. 

You can try to explain that not all kids are the same and yours is somewhat more difficult, more intense, more sensitive and more loud than others. 

According to them, it's your fault you are not handling it all smoothly all the time and now you complain about it. 

You are not doing it right. You are not enough.

Ending probably with a comment such as "Well then you shouldn't have had a kid in the first place if you have all these problems". 

These kind of words tap into every parent's greatest fear: that they are not good enough of a mom or a dad.  And they are also not allowed to say anything about this fear because they need to "grow up". 

I decide to choose a different approach.

When someone tells me about their problems/complains/whines (call it whatever you want), it will be a good test for me to see what kind of eye I can offer them. 

The good one or the evil one?

Do I have empathy even though I don't get their problems?

Do I have a good word although I don't completely understand their hardships?

If I think they are overreacting, do I care enough to get some more information or will I fill in the blanks by myself and give my conclusions?

If I think they are overreacting, can I tell them that in a kind, non-destructive way?
Or will I just see it as exaggerated momma drama?

What is one of the most important lessons I want to teach my child?

To be a good person, to be kind.  

We talk about it all the time.

Say "please" and "thank you".

Share. 

Baby Alex is sad. Go give him a hug.

Don't say mean words to other kids. 

Maybe we, as adults, need to say less mean things as well. 

Listen to our own advice to the little ones. 

We teach them to go beyond their first impulse of hitting or biting or screaming and find the right way to do things. 

So we, as adults, can practice going beyond our first impulse of judging and throwing rocks, think things through and find the compassion towards every person, child or grown-up alike.

Why Mom just can't do it all

 

As a stay-at-home mom, I put a lot of pressure on myself. 

I want to do it right, whatever that means.

I read stuff about what is good for kids physically and emotionally and when something makes sense, I try to implement it.

It gives me a feeling of success which, in all honesty, I badly need. 

Because the feelings of success that I had been used to before my daughter was born (finishing a project, getting a good grade, receiving an appreciative comment from a customer, getting my paycheck) are gone. 

All gone. 

Here are some of my findings. 

Findings that are basically the results of many studies conducted in many fields.

Mom should breastfeed. If she can. She should breastfeed for at least a year (although now the age is being pushed to two) and preferably even longer than that. Because breastfed babies are healthier and smarter. 

No pressure.

Mom should feed the child healthy food. Preferably organic. Preferably home cooked. No processed food. Mom should strive for 5-7 servings of veggies and fruits/day (according to the anti-cancer people).

Mom should not let child watch T.V. Zero before two years. Very little after that. Because it is simply bad for them. Like real bad. It will undermine their capacity to entertain themselves, to deal with boredom, to enjoy the slower pace of the real world. It will make them want stuff and more stuff by turning them into life-long consumers. Not pretty. They benefit more from playing with a rock in the garden.

Mom should make sure child gets enough sleep. Minimum 12 hours per day when 2 years old. Every hour lost over an extended period of time is a setback in brain development. No joke. 

Mom should strive to use non-plastic dishes and cups. Even BPA free sucks. Especially if heated up.  

Mom should consider carefully whether she will send her child to daycare. Psychologically, children are ready for daycare around age 4-5. The little ones show elevated stress hormones in the afternoon when they are in daycare and they do a lot better with one-on-one. Especially an introverted child who is not a big fan of loud groups.

And now comes the hard part (yes, only now).

Mom should strive to be an example for the child, a role-model. 

Not only in everyday habits like washing hands and cleaning up after ourselves.

But also in emotional management. 

Which is the most difficult of them all. 

Showing the child that when we are enraged, we breathe through it, we take a break, we acknowledge the anger but don't act on it. 

Showing the child that it's ok to be mad and sad and to cry and to let it all out because things have been building up inside for a while. 

These emotions are ok. 

Acting on them (throwing, hitting, swearing) is not. 

Teaching them this emotional management that many parents have never learned. 

Because when you were angry, you were "bad" and that was it.

Also, no yelling, no spanking, no punishments, no threats.

I know some may not agree but building a relationship on fear is not my goal. 

I don't want my child to be afraid of me because I am bigger and can make her do things she doesn't want to and I can punish her at any time.

I want her to do the things I ask for because we respect each other.

Utopia?

Maybe.

Some of the things I've mentioned are easy to do. 

I didn't like plastic to begin with, for example. 

But I can't do it all.

I can manage T.V. time (or computer time, to be more accurate since we don't have a T.V.). I used to play Baby Einstein for my daughter to get 25 minutes of peace.  

I only nurse once or twice/day and I would stop if I could (I think it's been enough as it is). 

I can try as hard as I want to have a regular bedtime and bed-routine, on some days it will still be a struggle. My daughter will go to bed late and invariably awake earlier than usual the next morning. 

If daycare was a possibility for us, I might try part-time.

Also, I can't have a piping hot home-cooked meal full of veggies every day.

But most of all, I cannot show my daughter how to manage her emotions all the time because I am still not able to manage my own. 

I will yell and will feel guilty about it and will apologize and will yell again.

I will have days when my meltdown might be just as bad as hers.

I will say some egregious threats in complete despair.

I will slam a door and scare her. And then feel like a looney. 

Children will always frustrate their parents.

However, parents will also frustrate their children with their flaws and shortcomings and inability to be kind, patient and loving in crucial moments. 

Because Mom simply cannot be perfect. 

She will serve microwave meals and ignore the child when she wants to finish her conversation on the phone.

She will choose formula after 3 months of terror and unbearable nipple pain.

She will put her child in daycare at 12 weeks because she wants to keep her job.

She will scream at her kids like a maniac because it's 9 p.m. and they have been ignoring her for the past 25 minutes. 

She will play Baby Einstein on her phone in the store because she wants to shop for 20 minutes in peace and actually be aware of what she is putting in her cart. 

She will snap at her child because she can't take another sentence uttered in the nerve-wrecking whining tone. 

Maybe one day the child will understand that you gave it your all even if it didn't seem like much back then. Maybe she won't. 

Either way, be kind to yourself. You are trying. 

And you are there even when it's all falling apart. 

And that's the most important lesson to teach.

It takes a village. But what kind?

I regularly bump into articles and studies suggesting that today's nuclear family (mom + dad + kid/s) is not how things should be.

It is not normal or natural.

It is a product of modern times.

Exhausted moms have told me they are doing it all and they feel it is not right.

There should be backup out there. 

Preferably one that does not cost a fortune.

"It takes a village to raise a child not one or two people" some would tell me. 

And I used to agree. 

I still do, partly. 

Having no close family around, I would practically fantasize about being with Loud Baby's grandparents, letting them take over for a couple of hours, having someone else do the cooking and laundry sorting. 

I would picture this ideal family in a literal village where grandparents, aunties, uncles and cousins come and go, help out, pitch in, tell stories and there you have it: one big family raising the kids together, being there for each other. 

As it should be, as it used to be. Maybe even under one big roof. 

And then I went home for a few months.

All the grandparents were amazing with Loud Baby.
Their help was invaluable.
Feedings, walks, games, diaper changing.
They helped with pretty much everything except nursing, night wakings and putting Loud Baby to bed.
They had loads of patience while mine had been worn thin.
They had energy to play silly games when all I wanted was a nap.
They were so happy to have their only grandchild with them, they wanted to make the most of it.
And I was more than glad to let them be the stars in the Loud Baby show.

After a few weeks, though, I was as stressed as I had been when it was just our nuclear family.
I wanted it to be "just us" again which seemed ludicrous considering I had daydreamed about having the "big happy family" be together only a few weeks before.

But there was friction.
There was overt and covert criticism.
And more criticism.
"Why won't you pierce her ears?".
"Why are you giving her baby food from the store instead of making it? It's surely filled with preservatives and chemicals".
"Why isn't she wearing any socks?" (a big favorite).
"What kind of shoes are those? Those are terrible shoes. I can't believe how bad those shoes are".
"Why does it always have to be the way you want it?"
"Her breathing is weird. Her legs are weird. Her crawling is weird. Maybe she should see a doctor".
"How long are you going to be out? Where are you going?"
"You ate while you were out? That's weird." (this is when grandparents forget you are not the kid living under their roof anymore and they revert to their old roles).
Going out to eat during nap time despite my explaining it is not a good idea and then being grumpy because Loud Baby cried through all of it.
"You should be more patient with your child!".
 
Anyway, you get the point.
Basically, you feel like you are doing it all wrong (like a new mom needs that).
But you don't say much because the help you are getting is amazing.
And you wonder about the socks, and the earrings and the breathing and the food you are feeding your child. 
Things you didn't used to worry about before, because for some reason they all seemed ok.

By the end of it, you wonder whether the nuclear family wasn't formed because the younger people just wanted to do it their own way, be that as it may.
And the grandparents wonder why you shut down when they only want to give you well-meaning advice and suggestions.
And you seem ungrateful.
So you can't ask them not to put on videos for the one-year old without them rolling their eyes.

I guess not being under the same roof would solve some of the problems.
Unfortunately, that is not an option for us, being so far away and only rarely visiting.

It is wonderful to have help.  It always is.
However, I've found that I personally prefer to do the extra work for my baby, than have the village do it while constantly questioning my parenting ways.
I can do that by myself.

Nevertheless, thank you, village, for all your effort!
It's great to know you are out there.

No, I don't want another child. Exclamation mark.

I love kids. I really do.

I love to watch them learn and grow and I have always wanted to be a mom.

After we got married, people soon started asking when we were going to have a child.

Um...I don't know. I can make all the plans I want but there are other forces at work.

If you know what I mean.

Deciding to have a child is a huge deal.

It's natural and normal for most couples, but nevertheless it remains a huge deal.

After Loud Baby was born, my life became centered around this one tiny person.

There was no time for myself. Or my husband. Or anything else.

When you have a high spirited child who shrieks at the very thought of being handed over to someone else, you suck it up and assume your role.

It's not like your social circle is teeming with people who are eager to take care of someone so tiny and so unhappy.

(On a side note: for about three months we managed to put Loud Baby in daycare twice a week. When we told the caregivers we were moving, there were sighs of relief around us and one lady even texted her friend to let her know about the good news.)

A few months after Loud Baby turned one, I noticed I was carrying an extra bag of irritation and frustration in addition to the regular burdens of everyday life.

So I tried to trace back the emotions to the thoughts that were triggering them.

The answer was simple: I was being pressured to have another child.

And everything in my heart was telling me I was not ready.

And I felt guilty about it, about not wanting my non-existent second baby.

Talk about crazy.

Most of my friends who had given birth around the same time I had were already pregnant or trying to be.

Everywhere I went, strangers would say how beautiful Loud Baby was, ask about her age and then promptly proceed to say it was time for another one.

They knew so well.

Everyone was so sure.

Except me.

But nobody seemed to care or even ask about any of the factors that would suggest it's a good idea to go for another baby...things like whether I was getting enough sleep, if I had any help, if we had money or insurance or room in the house.

These are personal things so people don't ask them.

But they jump on you with advice for having more kids.

And that is, for some insane and not-understood-by-me reason, ok to do.

Doormen would tell me one is not enough, maintenance people would state now was the time, friends and relatives would ask if we were "working on it".

I used to be polite and evasive.

My answer now is: no. Not right now, not for a while.

I have many reasons which people don't care to hear so I don't bother.

I ignore the "What a weird person. She must really hate kids" look and move on.

But to anyone out there going through a similar situation, I will write down my reasons.

They are messy details that nobody cares to hear but which are part of a mom's messy life nonetheless.

1. My daughter has started sleeping through the night 3 months ago. There's a lot of sleep I need to catch up on out there. Around 2 years to be exact, considering I was not sleeping much in the last weeks of my pregnancy. Only a sleep-deprived person gets this so I don't bother explaining anything to moms whose kids slept at night when they were 2 weeks old.

2. I am tired of crying. Of baby crying in the night and me crying from exhaustion. Our nights are peaceful. After all this time. It is amazing. I cringe at the thought of needing to get up over and over and over again. Loud Baby cried so much in her first year, it is hard to describe. I don't want to hear anymore baby cries for a while. Toddler cries are enough for now.

3. I am still breastfeeding. My breasts are a complete mess. They often hurt. I cannot yet wean because my toddler sleeps more if I nurse her than if I don't which means a better rested toddler which means a better day. I cannot and will not tandem feed. My breasts need a break after Loud Baby will finally be done.

4. We cannot afford daycare. Or a nanny. We have no grandparents to help us. It is me and my husband. We manage as we do, with him being able to continue his work from home in case I call him and ask him to come as soon as he can because both the kid and I are burning with fever.

5. Loud Baby is a spirited child. Which means she is stubborn, demanding, and very, very intense. It is amazing to be around her when she is happy and gets creative. It is an endurance test to help her through her tantrums. Did I mention she was 2? Tantrums are a constant presence.

I am in awe of moms who have two or more kids close together and can do it all.

I am just not one of them.

And for me, it is better to be a sane mom to one child, than an exhausted wreck to two kids.

Some call this selfish.

Some say I am missing out.

A lot of research, however, says that a difference of four years and more is easier on the mom and first baby.

I am sure you can find the exact opposite too, but for now  I will stick with this one.