So many aging eggs, so little time

Last week while talking with a friend about whether or not either of us should try to have another child, I blithely said, "I'm 37, blah blah blah." I attribute this slight lapse of time to the fact that I have lost my mind since having Juliana. The fact is that I'm still 36, and will be for another 43 days. But I digress....

Lately I've been thinking more and more about whether or not A and I should try for a second child. And I'm talking all-consuming thinking. Weighing pros and cons. Coming up with question after question (when would be the 'right' time to start trying? what if we get pg? what if something goes wrong? what if we have another mc? what if another child ruins our current family dynamic? on and on ad nauseum).

I know this discussion was big recently over at Julie's and there were so many valid reasons voiced as to why women tried for another child as well as why some opted not to try.

I'm on the fence on trying again but I know that time is running short if we do decide to give it a whirl. I'm staring down the barrel of the fertility gun age-wise. But my body, she is like a fine tuned machine (hormonally speaking, not physically) right now. According to my (non-RE) endocrinologist, my hormone levels are excellent post-pregnancy. Almost 8 months after baby and I'm ovulating on my own each month with almost textbook cycles running right around 28-29 days. Given my NCAH, and for my body, it don't get much better than that. I've been tempted to just start casually having unprotected lovin' with A but am scared--I mean, hell, what if it works a second time? Then what?

There are many pros on why I'd love to try for another child...but there is one giant con: I am absolutely terrified of another labor experience like the one I had with J. I mean, come on, forceps? Something like fewer than 2% of all pgs today end up being forcep deliveries. And, hell, have you seen the size of those things vs. the size of the average cooter? (Alright, I know--there's that whole 'size of the baby's head vs. the size of the average cooter' thing too but still, the forceps had to go IN in order to get that head OUT--and the bad bad anesthesiologist would not give this nice girl anymore of the good pain-be-gone juice in her epidural line since the stoopid bad nurse waited too long to call bad bad doc in and the nice girl's cervix was too big to permit more adios pain juice on board the mother ship). 'Nuf said.

In talking with another friend recently, a fellow infertile (who's due to give birth in 5 weeks), she bemoaned the fact that she wasn't ready yet. I told her what other parents told me along the way--you're never really ready, you just do it.

But it seems like if we're going to try to go down this road again, maybe I should heed my own assvice.