One-year-old syndrome

I recently reflected on all the changes that occur when your child goes from infancy to toddlerhood.  No more bottles, no more formula, no more infant clothes.  It's quite an experience for a new mom.  Blah, blah. But in my rant about impending toddlerhood, I forgot to mention another bi-product of having a one-year-old.  It's the time when people start asking you the dreaded question:

So, when are you going to have another one?

A question like this, for me, rates right up there with the most dreaded pregnancy and post-baby inquiries:

• What are you having? 
• How many cm dilated are you?
• How long did you 'push'?
• Are you breastfeeding?
• Did you need an episiotomy?
• Does your baby sleep through the night yet?

I could go on.  When you're a new mom or very, very pregnant (41 1/2 weeks in my case), you can typically get away by answering these questions with a snarky comment:   

I was 8 cm dilated at 38 weeks and my baby chimpanzee flew out after 5 minutes of labor, I felt no contractions, my milk came in within 30 minutes of delivery, I had no stitches and, oh, the little monkey has slept through the night since we left the hospital.

But after a year, when you're a little more lucid you can use a more fitting retort:

Hey you, nosy. Mind your own business.

The dreaded question, surprisingly, does not come from the grandparents.  My parents and in-laws, at least, know better than to push my buttons since I gave them the "Little Prince." (If you don't believe the moniker, you should see my basement.)  No, no. The people who typically engage in such a discussion are (in no particular order):

• Co-workers (they need to plan when you're going out on maternity leave again)
• Your OB-GYN (she's looking for more cash)
• An acquaintance who pushed out two kids in 18 months, looks like Barbie and is annoying
• The clerk at your local kiddie boutique (she too, is looking for more cash)

Or, in my case specifically, my husband. What, you ask?  Husband? Ah, yes. Last weekend on our Mexican "date" night (why is it a "date" when you are married, somebody please tell me?), over a very stiff margarita, my DH said to me:

"I could could see us you getting pregnant in about 6 months."

(Me choking on my fajita) "Six months? Really?"

I know he's six years older than me and all, but didn't he get the memo? You don't say this to a woman who just got all her pants altered. Look, I'm all for having another kid and all, but I'm not in a rush. I'm happy and contented with my little boy now and work is finally starting to make sense again. I see no reason to rock my uterus any time soon. Especially now that it's summer and I have to put on a bathing suit.

I'm still feeling young and vital and knock wood, I'm hoping that it's as easy for #2 as it was for #1. And if it is not, god forbid? Well, I'll deal with it then. 'Cause I'm not ready yet. I mean, I'll probably never be "ready" but you gotta give a mama some time to digest the thought of getting pregnant again. And for me, one year is just not enough time to start thinking about it.

So can everybody just keep their pants on? Now that mine are finally fitting again?

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Self-Made Mom is a mom blogger from Chicago. Look for her and others soon at the upcoming Chicago Moms Blog. And please don't ask her when she's going to reproduce again.