De ja vu.

One day while talking to my mom over coffee at my parents' kitchen table, shortly after Punky was born and only a few days after I had my IUD inserted, she said, "Well, I hope you don't regret your decision. I think having one beautiful child is definitely a gift, but I hope someday you don't decide you want anymore." My mom was (and still is, I think) convinced that the Mirena IUD was a form of sterilization. Because after all, she rationalized, that's why they prefer to only insert them in women who already have at least one child. So if you decide you want one, and now you can't, well at least you have this kid.

I had to explain to her that they prefer to insert IUDs into women with children because our cervices are all stretchy and used up after pushing a small Volkswagen out of our bagingo. Technology frightens my mother. Don't even get me started on her irrational fear of Netflix. But anyway.

Even if my mom's theory was correct (which, like her theory that Netflix is the devil's tool and her other crackpot conspiracies told by her god Rush Limbaugh *huge eyeroll*), I'm surprisingly okay with this. While I haven't made my mind up yet -- and I'm sure A's aching for a little boy, I saw the look of disappointment cross across his face ever-so-briefly at that fateful ultrasound where we saw a teeny tiny vagina -- I'm really okay with just one kid. Punky's beautiful and perfect. I had a remarkably uneventful pregnancy, an unremarkable delivery (besides the fact that it resulted in the Punky), and have a great kid. I don't feel the urge to tempt fate even more.

Some girls grow up with this innate urge, NEED, to be a wife and mom. I never had that. I never planned my perfect wedding in my mind -- which is probably why I did the quickie Vegas wedding which was perfect in regards to me and A. That, and I was knocked up and I didn't want to have a "real" wedding with everyone in the crowd staring at my baby bump and whispering, "So that's why they're getting married." (Even though it wasn't. We just kinda got ahead of schedule.) I've just never been wired that way. I was never of the small-town mindset that I *had* to marry my high school sweetheart (which I didn't) and that I *had* to pop out as many babies as possible while my reproductive organs were still up and running. I can respect women who want to expand their families. I'm just not in the mindset that I need to. I like where I'm at.

I mean, to be honest, I got the IUD so I could buy myself five more years before deciding to tie my tubes for good. (And maybe even salvage my career track.) That, and we've all seen how well I was doing on the NuvaRing.

So today I don't know if the magic fertility dust of Shaken Mama (whose blog you should read religiously and whose uterus you should send good, sticky, knocked-up vibes to) rubbed off or what, but I was sitting on the couch and I felt a bump in my stomach. Like something moved inside it. Maybe it was indigestion -- but it didn't hurt. It wasn't a pulsating feeling. It was just an occasional *bump bump bump*, just below my ribs on the left side. I just blew it off until I realized I knew that feeling. I remembered it. It was the same feeling as when Punky would kick around inside.

I doubt I'm pregnant again. I can't be. To FEEL a baby kicking? I didn't feel Punky kicking til I was probably 4-5 months pregnant. For me to be 4-5 months pregnant would require me to have gotten pregnant around April or May. And at that point I was still angrily thrashing away from anything even remotely phallic. Not to mention I still don't think I'd regained bladder control. And nothing says, "Hey, let's make a baby!" like, "Hold on, honey, these Depends are hard to get out of!"

Plus, I have an IUD. And am breastfeeding 4-5 times in a 24-hour period. I'd have to be the most fertile woman on the planet.

No. Just... no.