The standard questions come like clockwork, don’t they? We all find them annoying, but on the same token, we all ask them.
- Been dating a year – When are you getting married?
- Engaged – When are you having kids?
- Baby number one – When will you have another?
- Baby number two – Are you done having kids or will you have one more?
I am sure there are more after this, but the last one is where we are. Before T even arrived last October, I was getting the question. So for all my friends and family dying to know, here is the answer:
We don’t know.
For us personally, the answer to number 1 and number 2 were easy. We knew we wanted at least two kids. I remember talking about “the next one” while I was still on maternity leave with my oldest.
This third kid decision though? It’s tough for both of us.
Growing up, I always wanted three. I envisioned them all two years apart. For a while I wanted all boys, then for a bit I wanted two boys and a girl. But now here I am living this scenario, and it’s amazing. It’s more than I could have ever imagined.
It’s also really, really hard.
Perhaps I just wasn’t prepared for the transition from one to two. (OK, not perhaps; I flat out wasn’t.) People tell me going from two to three is easier. I’ve also heard it’s harder.
I’ve heard from people you’ll never regret having another, but you might regret it if you don’t. That statement is about as helpful as it sounds.
It’s such a permanent decision with so many implications. I look at my youngest from time to time and think, “Is he a middle child, or is he a younger child?” My oldest will always be my oldest, so I feel this decision has more implications on my (current) youngest.
I wonder if I have it in me again.
Pregnancy is fairly good to me, but it’s exhausting. Then there is the morning sickness. And let’s not even discuss labor and delivery. Plus, there is the whole “taking care of the two kids I have while pregnant thing.” Apparently a two-year-old still needs to eat even though mommy can’t even look at food!
In our situation, there is also the question of how hard I am willing to try. Fertility does not come easy to my body, and we had to fight (with the assistance of fertility drugs) to get pregnant with each of our boys. For the past four-and-a-half years I have either been hopped up on fertility drugs, pregnant, or nursing. It’s as exhausting as it sounds, and there is a big part of me that wants my body back.
My husband and I waited until a little later in life to have kids. (Him more so than me, as he is five years older than I am.) Waiting until later in life has had its perks, but if we add another, we are looking at my husband retiring the same year the last one (hopefully) graduates college. Again – nothing wrong with this, but we are trying to figure out if it is right for our family.
So there you have it: a long rambling post about something that has been weighing heavily on my mind for a while. I don’t anticipate being able to answer this question for a while, but I will be sure to let you know the answer, either in the form of a pregnancy announcement or a vasectomy celebration.
I’d love to hear how your families made the decision to add more or be done.