My baby is two. It’s been two years since I cried at the sound of her first cry. Two years since I kissed her fresh cheek. Two years since I first held a little person I loved from the moment I got the positive pregnancy test. Were her little fingers the last ones to wrap around mine, claiming me as her mama?
With two older sisters, the decision must be made. Are we done? Is she the last baby? When the crib is taken apart, will it be put back together in someone else’s house? I am often asked, “Are you going to try for a boy?” and “So are you guys done or what?”
I don’t know.
I always said I wanted two or four kids. “You can’t have an odd number or one gets left out!” If there was a number three, in my mind, there was always going to be a number four. At four, I could confidently answer “Yes! We are done!” As baby number four grew, I could free all the boxes of little onesies and hats from our basement without hesitation. I can’t promise I still won’t cry, but our storage room would no longer look like an episode of Hoarders.
My husband is confident we are done. Why would we complicate our already busy life with another pregnancy? Another hungry newborn crying at all hours of the night? He doesn’t need a boy. He never did. He happily predicted all three of our babies were girls. He has a rough and tumble girl, a princess, and a sweetie pie who has enough spunk to always keep us guessing. We are certainly not bored.
For the record: I don’t need a boy, either.
I just can’t stop wondering what little soul our family will never know. What funny stories will never be told? What silly made-up words will we never laugh about? What mischief will remain undone? What lessons will we never learn without him or her?
On the other hand, I have three beautiful, healthy, and funny children. Who am I to ask for more? The “What ifs” start rolling over in my mind.
What if we had twins again?
What if the baby is not healthy and family time is constantly split between hospital and home?
What if complications from childbirth take me away from my family?
What if we lose the baby and our whole family has to grieve because I wanted one more?
What if our fourth child is already born and we are meant to adopt?
What if we are the answer to a prayer for a forever family?
What if?
I don’t know if many people can say they have a favorite memory from their whole life so far, but I do. It was when my two-and-a-half-year-old twins saw their baby sister for the first time. They were overjoyed, yet so quiet and gentle. Our whole family was together for the very first time and it was a love and joy so full, I can’t imagine how that little hospital room contained it.
Was it because our family was complete?
Maybe.
