I had a dream where I had a baby (not Joshua) who cried and fussed constantly. S/he made it impossible for me to achieve anything or have any sort of social life. I was basically sitting in a huge white living room of a house (read: landed property), holding the crying kicking baby while looking at my beautiful huge swimming pool outside. The one that I can’t go for a swim in thanks to the baby.
My father and the in-laws were there, and they were no help. They indulged in television programs while I was the only one who tended to the child. I felt… so angry.
The anger I felt in dreamland was so strong, it woke me up.
Barely sober, I was still filled with frustration. Every single fiber of my being was boiling mad and yet so helpless. Hubs is so tired from his job that he barely spoke 2 sentences to me before snoring again. He doesn’t even snore unless he’s super duper tired.
I feel… so alone.
No. I don’t want another kid. Not now, not yet. Maybe not ever. I’m too selfish to go through another round of physical and emotional suffering due to pregnancy.
Regardless of the number of people who may be nice to you during the term (most of which you would just brush off as being irritating), you will still be the only one suffering the consequences. Ultimately, you will going through it alone. No one can share your backache, nausea, weird vivid dreams, strong food cravings, etc etc.
It doesn’t sound exciting at all. And to know I may need to juggle two small children alone IF I really am inflicted with the condition of being sperminated just scares me enough to make me cry.
I’ll be facing with the situation of:
– no movies
– no partying
– forced to avoid certain malls due to inaccessibility
– forced to let go of my favourite restaurants because they have a noisy crowd, no baby chairs,baby-friendly food
– struggling with my much hated public transport (now with TWO little monsters)
– always being spotted at Plaza Singapura because it is convenient and has cheap food available
– having no private time with Hubs
– leaky tits
– having a weird ugly body for another 2 years
Basically, I will have no life. And I will have to grapple with my self-image again. And my marriage will be threatened again due to lack of “dating time”.
Prior to Joshua, I barely visited Plaza Singapura because I don’t like Golden Village and there’s pretty much nothing there for me. It was Orchard Road all the time because there’s an ENTIRE FUCKING STRETCH of malls for me to pick and choose. Post-kid, there isn’t much reason or finances to go shopping, so why bother.
I ADORE Parkway Parade, but I haven’t been there for at least 4 months. Because it’s not accessible and it’s crowded, etc etc. Imagine having one more kid in the picture.
I’m happy here right now. I have money to spend, I have time to do what I want, I HAVE A LIFE. And I like it this way and I can still deal with the little things that are still lacking (eg: a car, late night beach visits, the luxury to slowly enjoy my atas kopi at Starbucks, etc). Imagine having one more kid in the picture. There will be less and less of what I enjoy and more of what is “good for the kids and easy on us”.
It really doesn’t help that I woke from the dream, came to the living room, and the wonderful stench of kitten poop greeted me. Both the cages have poop in them. I cleaned up one, and went to throw up in the sink. Now I can only resort to lighting up cigarettes one after another to stifle the gross smell of shit in the air.
And I am still badly craving Burger King breakfast (despite the smell of kitten poop lingering in the air).
I still want to go dance the night away amongst the bottles of alcohol.
Seriously, I could die right now. My lower back is still hurting like a bloody motherfxxer. Even the most soothing music cannot calm my frazzled nerves.
Once the shops open, I am going to buy a bloody test kit and get a negative result just for the heck of it.
And if my period does by any magical chance come in a week’s time, I am getting an IUD. I really really don’t think I want another kid soon. Not when some of my dreams have yet been fulfilled (where is that fucking overdue Bangkok/Hongkong/Australia trip?) and the things that make my life easier (where is that fucking car?) aren’t here yet.
I am an angry little woman. And I won’t even be “little” anymore if my worst fears are realised.