He Says, She Says, Baby Edition.

No, I am not pregnant.

I am, however, old and grouchy.

Things have thawed quite a bit between Tom and me. That is, they HAD thawed until we broached a touchy subject on last night's after-dinner walk.

For those of you who have been around a while, you know that a 3rd child never materialized in the See household because Tom and I couldn't take the plunge. To give you an idea of how long it takes us to make a decision, we have friends who have fallen in love, gotten married, and gotten divorced in the time it takes us to choose a new TV set.

So instead of having a 3rd child, we talked, and hemmed and hawed, and made Ektorp appointments, and canceled them, and hemmed and hawed some more, and aged, and adopted an annoying dog.

The "should we have another?" dance started as soon as I had my head above water after kid number 2.

At which point we had THIS annoying conversation:

Me: This stay at home mom thing is brutal! I would definitely consider having another child if you could commit to waking up once every night to feed the baby a bottle of breast milk or formula.

Tom: No, I just can't do that. I'd be too tired for work.

Silence.

At which point my baby-maker clamped shut with the force of a steel bear trap and the conversation halted for a few more years.

Later, we started thinking more and more about adding to the family. We discussed health insurance options. We had lovely conversations like this one:

Tom: Well, I'd consider having another one if I could stay home while you worked.

Me: Silence.

In my head: Does this guy really think we could survive on my measly salary when he makes 7 times as much? It would be a mistake to further procreate with this person. He is obviously really bad at math and has dubious reasoning skills. My sparkling personality will only get a baby so far...

A few years later, we started talking more and more. Things seemed to be bubbling up to baby-dom.

Until we spent a week at the beach with our close friends. One night over drinks I mentioned how Tom and I had caught a case of "baby fever."

At which point Tom looked at me blankly and said, "I really have no idea what you are talking about."

Embarrassed silence by our friends. Pissed-off silence by me.

Now if there is ONE thing I hate more than anything, it is being second-guessed by my spouse in public. I do NOT like feeling unsupported. I want someone to stand up for me-- ALWAYS.

This goes way, way back to my childhood and watching the relationship of key people in my life. I have shared with Tom time and again that I need him to back me up on things. If I am telling a great story and I say something happened 8 years ago, I don't want him saying, "Well, actually, it was 10." I am also trying to teach this to Jake, who is a nit-picky, semantics-obsessed corrector if there ever was one. God bless whomever he dates...

And it's not as if I was making this baby stuff up, Tom and I had been talking about it every day! Okay, every OTHER day, if you are reading this, Tom.

Back in our room, as I glared at him and told him how hurt I was for his claiming to have no clue as to what I was talking about, he said:

"Oh, you meant we'd been talking about BABIES? Sure. I was just unfamiliar with the specific terminology "Baby Fever."

Dear Lord. At which point I lamented marrying someone with the emotional and people skills of a Vulcan. Needless to say, no Vulcan/Human baby was forthcoming.

Which leads us to last night. Our neighbor's beautiful 5 year old was out riding her bike.

Anna: "Too bad we never got our act in gear. We could have one going off to kindergarten with little Beatrice."

Tom: "Well, it's not as if we didn't try."

In my head and on my face and coming out of my ears: TRY? TRY?????????

We never decided to try! There was no official decision! In the 10 years since my daughter was born, we have had unprotected sex one time! Once. Uno. Where I come from, that's called laziness, or Margarita Night, not TRYING.

Believe me, I am a type "A." If I had known we were "trying," I would have put a little more of myself into it, Tom would have gotten a lot more action, and we very likely would have another child.

So there you have it, a 41 year old woman wrestling with ghosts of the past. The truth is, if I had ever really been sure, I would have pursued the baby thing more wholeheartedly. But I felt tired, and often annoyed, and, well, un-sure. Do I wish we had another? Absolutely.

Do I want to do anything about it at age 41? No.

Do I wish Tom and I were better communicators? Heck yeah. I am quite hopeful the next 20 years will bring progress in this area, although if our pre-marital counseling goals are any indication, we are in for a wee bit of trouble.

Well, I hope you have a wonderful holiday weekend!

By the way, my old eggs and I are starting to research new kitchen appliances. Tom is not on board yet. I'll let you know when they get delivered, which should be shortly before hell freezes over.