I find myself lying in bed, thinking to myself: I’m not sure if I can handle having a second child.
It’s most probably the uncertainty; the having the rearrange everything again that scares me. It’s not just that children are a lot of work - it’s the tight-rope-walking feeling when you realise they are the one thing in life you really don’t want to mess up.
Update: Nope, I’m not writing this because Faith’s pregnant.
