The hardest battle is that one we fight against ourselves

I do not intend to justify myself. Neither I pretend to convince anyone. Much less I pretend to convince myself of anything. But I want to repeat it once again: I love being a mom. I really do. I love to see my little girl grow, being by her side in the process of discovering the world. Being always there for her. It really is a special time in my life that I wouldn't thought it could have made me feel so happy and full.

On the other hand, I feel guilty, very guilty. I always pictured myself with several children, to be precise 3. I used to speak about my small crowd and I liked the idea of having three children running all around the house. But my princess came to change my perspective of everything and although I hardly recognize, the truth is that today I don't want any more children.

I say I feel guilty because I love being a mom, in fact is the best thing that would have happened to me in life. So the logical question I ask myself every day is: if you like it so much and it makes you so happy, why don't you want to live it again? And my answer is always the same: I don't want to go through this grueling process, so rewarding though. It's hard being a mom, it's hard to give your children the care they need, the time they need. And honestly, I trully believe that I can't do it again. Saying this, I'm trying to be honest with myself but at the same time I blame myself because I feel it's wrong to feel the way I feel. Sometimes I question if I want to have another child just to weigh the guilt, even though deep down I feel comfortable with just one daughter.

Neither the pretext of having "my baby boy" changed my perspective. In fact, sometimes I think that in case of having another child it would be so nice to have another baby girl. Even though I once dreamed of my little man. Anyhow, I could never be again the mom that I was and am with Sofia, nor even if I'd try. I'd no longer have time, neither my hands wouldn't be enough.

Some people will say "it gets easier with the second baby" or "is better to have all of them in a row so you do it all at once." And they are probably right. Maybe a second child is easier, although in the end I think more than easier it would be less stressful, because one as a parent has already passed many fears, but not all. What about having children in a row to raise all of them at once? People who believe this see motherhood as a race against time? And what about the obligation "to have" more than one child and do everything faster to pass the process sooner? I don't understand, really. It doesn't make sense for me. Because even knowing how hard it is to raise a person, I enjoy the process. The difference is that I don't believe I might do it with someone else, again.

Maybe it's too soon to keep question so many things. Perhaps this guilty I feel is simply a reflection of the enthusiasm I used to have about my small crowd when I really didn't know what that entails, on my scale of priorities. And perhaps my biggest fear is confirm my worst fear: not being able to love a second child as much as I love my little queen.

Sometimes I wish I could not think that much. Sometimes I like to do it, because all my decisions are the product of the love I put into everything I do. Anyway, I still can not get out of this uncertainty that generates in me the feeling that I don't want to be a mom again. The guilt is internal, the battle I fight is with myself. A struggle that doesn't worth pursuing, but that it's still there and I can't avoid yet.

I will leave this whirlwind of feelings someday? May I befriend with my true self?

La batalla más dura es la que damos contra nosotros mismos

No pretendo justificarme ni convencer a nadie, mucho menos autoconvencerme de nada. Pero quiero repetirlo una vez más: me encanta ser mamá. Me fascina ver crecer a mi gorda, acompañarla en el proceso de descubrir el mundo, estar siempre ahí para ella. Realmente es un momento especial de mi vida que no creí que me haría sentir tan feliz y plena.

Por otro lado, siento culpa, mucha culpa. Siempre me imaginé con varios hijos, exactamente 3. Hablaba de mi pequeña multitud y me gustaba la idea de tener tres descendientes correteando en la casa. Pero mi princesa vino a cambiar mi perspectiva y, aunque me cuesta reconocerlo, la verdad es que hoy no quiero tener más hijos.

Digo que me da culpa porque me encanta ser mamá, es lo mejor que me pasó en la vida. Entonces, la pregunta lógica que me hago a diario es: si tanto te gusta y tan feliz te hace, por qué no querés vivirlo nuevamente? Y mi respuesta siempre es la misma: no quiero volver a pasar por este proceso agotador, aunque tan gratificante. Es muy duro ser mamá, darles la atención que necesitan, dedicarles el tiempo que requieren. Y sinceramente, no creo poder hacerlo otra vez. Así, me sincero conmigo misma y me culpo, porque siento que está mal sentir de la manera que siento. A veces me cuestiono si tendría otro hijo sólo para sopesar esa culpa, aunque en el fondo me sienta a gusto con una sola hija.

Ni el pretexto de "mi varoncito" cambia mi perspectiva. De hecho, a veces pienso, que de tener otro hijo, sería tan lindo tener otra nena, aunque alguna vez soñé con mi hombrecito. Pero jamás podría volver a ser la mamá que fui y que soy con Sofía, aunque quisiera. Ya no tendría tiempo, no me alcanzarían las manos.

Algunos dirán "se pone más fácil con el segundo", o "mejor tenerlos seguidos así lo hacés todo de una sola vez". Y probablemente tengan razón y un segundo hijo sea más fácil, aunque en el fondo creo que más que fácil, sería menos estresante, porque uno ya ha superado muchísimos miedos, aunque no todos. Tener hijos seguidos para criarlos de una sola vez? Es que acaso quienes lo sostienen ven a la maternidad como una carrera contra reloj? La obligación de "tener" más de un hijo y hacerlo todo rápido para que pase cuanto antes? No lo entiendo, en serio. Porque dentro de lo duro que es criar una persona, disfruto el proceso. La diferencia es que no creo poder hacerlo con otra persona más.

Tal vez sea muy pronto para cuestionarme tantas cosas. Tal vez la culpa sea simplemente el reflejo de la ilusión de armar una pequeña multitud sin haber sabido lo que ello conlleva, en mi escala de prioridades. Y tal vez mi mayor miedo sea confirmar mi mayor temor: no poder amar tanto a un segundo hijo como amo a mi reina.

A veces quisiera no pensar tanto. A veces me gusta hacerlo, porque todas mis decisiones son producto del amor que pongo a todo lo que hago. De todos modos, aún hoy no logro salir de esta incertidumbre que me genera el no querer volver a ser mamá. La culpa es interna, la lucha es conmigo misma. Una lucha que no vale la pena continuar, pero que está ahí latente y no la puedo evitar.

Se irá de mí este torbellino de sentimientos algún día? Podré amigarme con mi verdadero yo?