I want a third child.
I want the adult family that having a third child will ensure. I want the bigger family that a third child means.
I also want to make sure that my children don’t end up like my husband. My husband who had an older sister for 27 some years, and then, suddenly…didn’t.
And now when people ask him if he has a sibling there is the smallest of pauses that comes before his answer:
“I’m an only child.”
And I know there are no promises in life. None. But I also know that I have always wanted a big loud family that surrounds each other with love.
And I know that I’m not quite there yet. Not in terms of size.
My family is small. My brother has two children. His wife has no siblings. My husband has no siblings.
Which means that my children have two cousins. That’s it. I have 4 on my mom’s side and 4 on my dad’s side. And while we don’t see each other much they are still there. This comfort of family. This knowledge of extended love.
And I want that for my kids. I want them to have the bigger net of love that more siblings will bring them.
And more than that. I want another child. I am absolutely in love with being a mom.
And yet I waiver.
Because two children is tough. And making the time and money and general effort for an extra child is incredibly intimidating.
So we are trying to sort through it. Trying to figure out what makes sense for the family we have now and weigh it against the family we will have if we have another.
And it’s a struggle. And it’s hard.
And we’ll see…