But Maybe I’m Done

When my husband and I met, one of the things that connected us was our family values and what we saw in our future regarding family. Four of those things were babies. We both wanted four children. I grew up with two siblings, cousins that were especially close to us and an open door policy in our home. All of our friends were welcome in and out of our house as they pleased. There were always friends and family around. I thrived in that environment, our home was a little complicated but there was always love around. It was the saving grace to a whole lot of drama.

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My husband was an only child until he was in college when his parent’s adopted two beautiful girls from Russia. He grew up in a bit of a more quiet household. This has inspired him to have four children, a household full of little people running around. We have had two very different upbringings that have led us to many of the same dreams.

Little has my husband known that I have been trying to wrap my mind around having more children after this one. It is fairly difficult to admit at this point. I don’t want to admit my weaknesses or back down on something that I know is so important to my husband. That being said, though I am not puking in the bathroom every second, my body is tired and in pain in ways that I never imagined or experienced before giving birth. These thoughts which are few of many have left me planting a seed in my husband’s brain and heart that two may be the final number.

I am beyond grateful that I have been able to have one healthy baby. I am extremely grateful that I have been able to carry a second baby. I realize we are not all so lucky. I don’t mean this to be insulting in any way to the mothers who struggle to get pregnant or carry one baby.

I know we are lucky to have a healthy family and I am thinking waaaaaaay in advance but I had to be honest with my the man. The man who I have had so many conversations with about having a large family.The man who I’ve made so many jokes with about our ten children. I have to admit to myself that maybe, I just can’t do this again. That one sibling for our daughter is enough. I try to rationalize not having anymore children. It’s only nine months. Then I think about adoption, we could adopt. It has always been in the back of my mind, something I have always admired. I’ve learned so much from my husband’s parents. Why have more children biologically when you can offer a home to another child in need? Maybe two children in need?

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The other night I asked my husband about one of the names we have been thinking for a girl. We both love the name and it means a great deal to my hubs. I asked him if we had a boy, would he want to use that name for him. He responded saying we might have a girl after. I responded with, we might not. I asked if he was okay with two children instead of four, if he was okay with this being our last little one. Being the man he is, he reminded me not to get ahead of myself and that we would work through things as they happen. The calm to my crazy. But with a pang to my heart and my gut I responded, “I’m serious.”

He then reminded me I felt similarly after the birth of our daughter. The difference then was that I said later versus never.

I have a love/hate relationship with pregnancy. Actually, that’s too harsh. I have a love and dislike relationship with pregnancy. But the love takes over just about every other emotion in my body, and for that reason I may actually say later not never in a few months.

One day at a time,

Raffaella

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