I took my 18 month old daughter to playgroup this morning and one of the women was there with her beautiful two week old baby. I’m not usually the clucky type. I don’t coo over newborns, or huddle around new mothers with babes in arms. I don’t strain my facial muscles trying to get a smile out of a six week old or tickle tiny strangers’ toes. But this morning was different. I departed playgroup with a massive desire to try for baby number two. Those miniscule, wrinkly little fingers trying to work out how they move. Those big eyes trying to focus and take in this strange world. Yes, it made me go ga ga.

It’s funny that it’s come at this time. My hubby and I have had no specific plans on when to, or even whether to, have another child. I have been reading a month by month guide book on toddler rearing and this very topic comes up in the 18 month old section. There are a couple of paragraphs in the book that are dedicated to considering whether to have another child, stating that it’s at 18 months that many people try to conceive again.

I wonder whether it’s a biological thing rather than a planned one. It certainly seems to be the case for me at any rate. Anyway, this afternoon hubby and I started chatting about rearranging furniture and what we’d need for the new room. Ahhh, and just last week we were talking about whether we should have another. It seems that the heart has won over all the logistical nightmares that face us. Finances, health, studies, work, tiredness, were all erased by this morning’s presence of one angelic little face.

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