On New Year’s Eve ten years ago, I found out I was pregnant with my first. It was a shock, really. Planned, for sure, but I thought it would take me a long time to get pregnant based on my history of womanly issues. Nope, no problems at all – I got pregnant my first month off birth control.
I was ecstatic. And 23 years old. My plan was in motion, because you see, my plan growing up was to get married at 22 and have 3 kids at 24, 27 and 30. Then I’d be done.
Well, I got married at 22 and had my first beautiful daughter at 24. And then my first daughter was, well, Alaina.
Alaina was a hard baby. She was diagnosed with acid reflux, which at least let us understand a bit of what was up with her. But it wasn’t all acid reflux. That went away after about a year, but Alaina was still a really hard child to parent. I always said that she was so beautiful because she was so hard. And that God knew if she wasn’t so beautiful it would be harder to look at her and love her so when times were so tough.
That’s why there are four years, and not two as my original plan, between her and her sister. I just couldn’t handle having another until then. And honestly, I wasn’t so sure how it was even going to work.
But it did. Because God is good.
Our second daughter, Cameran, was an easy baby once we found out she was sensitive to dairy and I cut it out of my diet. And once we got over the initial transition to having two kids (and Alaina having to share her parents), all was well in the White house.
Even though I was 28 and off plan, I was perfectly fine with that. And I was “done” having kids.
And then one day at the park, the spring before Cami turned two years old, I just couldn’t say that I was done having kids anymore. And my doctor suggested I go off my birth control for 3 months to see if it would lower my blood pressure. It seemed like a sign – go off birth control and if I don’t get pregnant, we’ll stop trying and stick with the two wonderful little girls we already had.
The only problem is that 3 months came and went and I still wasn’t pregnant. But we both wanted me to be. So we decided we’d try another few months.
The only problem is that another few months came and went and I *still* wasn’t pregnant. And at this point, we were both getting upset because we really wanted to have another child now, after the last 9 months of trying. So we decided that Christmas that we’d try for 3 more months. It was just too hard *not* getting pregnant.
Two months later I found out I was pregnant (at 32, not 30 as planned). And when I gave birth to our son Lucas, I thought it would be the last time.
And then I saw his precious little face and couldn’t imagine never being in that place again. Never being pregnant again, never giving birth again, never seeing my child for the first time again. I just LOVE babies.
But I’m happy where I am in life in right now. I’m enjoying working a little while I get to spend so much time with Lucas. Cameran is going to start going to full-day kindergarten 3 days a week when school starts up again next week. Alaina is NINE and a baby at this point would put over 10 years between her and the newest baby.
But have I mentioned I LOVE babies?
This whole decision on whether or not we’re done having kids has put me completely in limbo. I just can’t seem to make a decision and stick by it.
One day, (okay, let’s be honest) one morning I’m content with our three kiddos and by the evening, I’m ready to add another. And then by the next night, I’m back to being content with three.
I JUST CAN’T MAKE UP MIND.
Help me. How did you know?