After Isabella was born, amidst the sleepless nights, crying fits (mine and hers), and sheer misery of poop, fussies, and spit up, I would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that I was never having another one...ever. Andy would have agreed with me.
The dreariness of those early days is gone and I'm enjoying being a mother and all that it entails, and I've decided that I definitely want one more baby. Sometimes I think I want to wait a long time, like 3 or 4 years and sometimes I'll see a super cute pregnant lady and my ovaries will twitch and itch a bit and I think more along the lines of sooner.
Ultimately I think it will be on the later side of the spectrum. Maybe 1.5-2.5 years from now. Since I'm nosy and ask a lot of questions, I've noticed that there are two trains of thoughts on when to add to your family: have 'em spaced close together so you can get that unpleasant baby junk over with, because I'm sure we can all admit night wakings and diaper blow outs are zero fun. And then there's the space 'em out thought train that says to get through one and then move on to another.
I understand them both, but find myself in the latter category. I want to enjoy all of Isabella's babyhood with 100% attention. I want to save enough money so that we can move into a bigger house. I'm enjoying our little family too much. I want to be skinny for long enough that I can enjoy it before the ass begins to expand. I don't want to give my husband a heart attack.
So there you have it. I want more kids...well I want another kid, but I'd say its safe for me to pack up those maternity clothes for a while.