I always wanted 3 children. Growing up our family of 4 felt small & quiet. To orderly. Another child, I figured, would add some delightful chaos and asymmetry. I vowed to have 3 children, and when I mentioned it to G, he thought it sounded just dandy.
And then the realities hit. The emotional, physical, and financial expenses of infertility. Draining & debilitating (though medically uncomplicated) pregnancies. The colic and subsequent PTSD for the newborn period (really, it was that bad). There were times in B's infancy that I declared tearfully that I was never doing this again. But it passed, and we mustered up the courage & quickly went for round 2 before we lost our nerve, just to get it over with, provide our child with a sibling, and move on from the family-building. Two boys. Healthy & happy. A nice neat family.
But I don't feel done. I never understood, before, when people said they wanted more children because their families felt "incomplete", but that's what I feel right now.Our kids are so amazing, why not have more, right?
There is a "why not", though. There are several, that stop my careening dreams in their tracks. First, who knows if we can conceive another child, carry it to term, deliver a healthy baby. Who are we to expect THREE healthy children when so many have so much less? Every potential child is a gamble. A roll of the reproductive dice. A possibility of walking away from the table with nothing except lost time, money, sanity.
Honestly, I'm afraid. I've been so so lucky and I know too much and I'm afraid its our turn. That we should walk away, happy with what we have instead of being greedy and pushing our luck.
I don't know what we're going to do. I'm thankful I've got some time.