The third baby debate has waxed and waned at our house for ages now, or at least since shortly after Molly was born. JD and I regularly weigh the pros and cons, pit our wants against realities and in the end always conclude with no, but maybe? Please, maybe? (Not really a decision I realize.)
It never occurred to me that the decision NOT to have any more children would be more difficult than the decision to have them. When Sophie was conceived it was what I like to call a planned surprise. We weren't trying not to have a baby, but I also didn't think I would be pregnant within 6 weeks of stopping oral contraception. My pregnancy with Sophie wasn't dramatic or difficult, but miserable enough that after she was delivered via induction I was content for a long time with the thought of not having another baby. It wasn't until she was two that the memories of my unpleasant pregnancy had faded enough for me to seriously begin to talk about a second child. It still took almost a year after that for us to decide we were truly ready to take the plunge for a second time and of course in the first three weeks after stopping the pill I was again pregnant. (Fertility is clearly not a problem.) Both times we decided to conceive the decision was almost impulsive and the result so quick that we really had little time to second guess, debate or consider the consequences. We just agreed that we felt ready and instantly we were committed to trying.
After having Molly, as in the second she was born, JD was pretty certain that two was the number for us. We only have two hands he kept saying. I was the polar opposite. Every second that ticked by all I could think was this is the last time. The last time I will hold a minutes old baby. The last time I will hold a baby this close and carefully inspect each bit of its of tiny face and hands. The last time I will feel the special bond of nursing. The last time for a first smile, first giggle, first roll-over, first step, first word, first birthday and very shortly the last time for a second birthday. So while JD was listing all the things that would change in our lives if we had a third child (and he thought of it all, everything from needing a mini-van to requiring a second or larger toothbrush holder); I was mourning what felt like the end of something special and chasing every fleeting moment of Molly growing-up.
I felt so strongly that I wasn't ready for our baby-days to be over that if he had agreed I would have considered trying again before Molly was even a year-old. Over the last year or so JD's resolute 'no' has mellowed to a maybe, but I know even though he does the never-say-never song and dance with me that he really is content with our family now. In response to JD's strong feelings, I say that a third would be crazy. How would I handle three kids on my own when JD works night? How could we possibly afford a third (especially now)? There are so many other things I want to do now other than just be a Mom, and besides they are finally getting old enough that we can be more adventurous and do more things. I've said it all, but deep down, way down in my heart-of-hearts I still feel a little tug. A little pull to have another child. I still constantly consider baby names when I hear a new name and frequently have images of family vacations with three little ones playing on the beach. Then the reality of screaming kids, unmade meals, dirty laundry and crazy schedules hits me like a tonne of brinks and I know the truth.
The truth is we are done. No more babies at our house, and so its time to let it go. I spent the weekend bagging up baby and toddler clothes all to be donated. Four huge garbage bags of tiny, baby-scented sleepers gone. Bassinet to the curb. Bottles in the garbage. All of it out the door. It was harder than I thought it would be. I felt miserable doing it and JD acknowledging that he was sad to see it go was enough to make me cry. In the end I did save one bin of favourites clothes, including the outfits the girls came home in and a few others with special memories. I packed them up and stashed the bin way up high in Molly's closet, put away for remembering. It feels oddly strange to know that this is it. This is my family and now we just watch them grow. I partly feel like something is missing, but then I wonder too if I'm just mourning the babies I already have. The babies who are big kids now, and just keep growing faster than I can keep up. Faster than I want them to!
Sadie, JD, Sophie and Molly. That's us. A family of four.
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