Let me start by saying that I do NOT want to have any more children.  I am sure of this and despite the looks and the “aww I’m sure if you met the right man you will change your mind” comments-I know that more children are not a part of my future.  I am lucky–I have an amazing daughter who makes my life complete and fills every day with a love I did not even know existed.  But really? I can’t  imagine doing this whole baby thing again.

I know I am jaded, that I speak from a place of hurt and abandonment but I also know the feeling of doing this alone and I can’t ever risk that again.  I have spent too many nights  awake with a sick child, taken countless trips to the pediatrician and the ER alone.  I have done it all-comforted my baby, carried her diaper bag and stroller all the while filling out the forms and dealing with the doctors.  I have picked out her schools and interviewed teachers, weighed test scores and undergone the scrutiny of the Catholic school system magnifying glass-alone. It is not impossible but it is certainly not easy–not at all.

I’ve had the dreams-the ones where I have a sweet newborn in my arms and a great man by my side. I think about all the things I did not get to do in my first pregnancy-the pictures I did not take, the birthing classes I did not attend and yes, I do get a twinge of sadness.  I think about Belle growing up alone–how she will never have a brother or sister to share her life with.  As much as it saddens me–it is not enough to change my mind.

My baby fever? It is there once in a while but my reality is the perfect antidote.

I am used to doing the whole single parent thing-my life runs at a crazy pace and 99.9% of the time I am running at the pace needed to keep up with all my demands.  I can juggle multiple roles and demands and at times even make it look easy (god, if they knew only…).  I know am strong and like the old saying goes “if it doesn’t kill me, it makes me stronger”. There are times though, times like today when that strength slips just enough to let the weakness creep in.

I woke up today with every muscle in my body aching, my nose so congested I can hardly breathe right and a cough that leaves my chest sore. When the alarm went off at 5:30AM-all I wanted to do throw it across the room and stay in bed. It is mornings like this when I wish I had someone to be there for me-for us. Someone who would get up, get Belle ready for school and let me stay in bed. Someone who would care that I was sick and would bring me my medicine and a hot cup of tea.

I used to get so angry at myself for wanting that-for admitting that this whole “doing everything alone” thing actually really sucks sometimes.  I used to go to great lengths to keep that feeling in check and now I realize how foolish that was. I know now that  it’s OK to need someone, to need help every now and then.  It’s OK to be strong and weak.