Remember that euphoric scent, that fresh out of the womb aroma that seems to waft off the heads of our newborn babies, like steam dancing above our coffee mugs for the first month or so? I miss that scent sometimes, so much so that I could cry just thinking about it.
My daughter is 7. My son is 4. Onesies and swaddle blankets are things of the past for us now, tucked away in plastic bins in my basement. I’ve always wanted a third baby. I always felt like three kids would round out our family.
My husband didn't share this sentiment, though
I distinctly remember him saying, like my least favorite broken record of all time, “We’ve got two. A boy and a girl. I’m content.” Over and over again.
To be honest, I had all but given up on my pipe dream of three kids when January of 2021 rolled around. I had accepted the reality. I was learning to live in the moment and be satisfied and grateful for the two beautiful, far-from-baby children I was raising.
My husband and I were talking in bed one night, and I made a third baby joke, something that I’d do sometimes to talk myself out of my dream. I was changing into my pajamas and I said, “Man, can you imagine a baby bassinet being in here again? How did we go two years basically sharing our bed with those tiny people?”
And he looked at me, without blinking, and said, “Actually, I can. I’ve been thinking about it and… I mean, why not? I think a baby could be good for all of us.”
I was stunned
I stood there with my pajama pants halfway up one of my legs. All I could do was stare at him for a few seconds.
“Excuse me?”
He smiled. “There’s no reason not to. I think having a little sibling to take care of and grow up with would be good for the kids. And it’s what you’ve always wanted, even though you pretend not to now. So why not?”
I smiled back. Then the nerves pushed their way into the joy I was just starting to feel. My anxiety screamed above the joy. And it was loud.
I started rethinking everything
Wait a minute. Do I really want this? Am I ready? Am I prepared to do this whole thing all over again? Can my kids handle it? Isn’t the middle of a global pandemic the worst time to be trying to have a baby?
All my thoughts jumbled together into mush and none of them made sense. For the next two months, all I did was overthink. Would the age gap be too big between my kids? Would my older ones move on and forget about this poor little third child when they were teenagers? Would they have anything in common?
Then it went deeper. Would I still continue working on myself? Would I be able to find my purpose outside of bearing children and falling in love with them? Would I forget to love myself along the way?
I needed clarity
I needed the “right” answer. And finally, one came — one that had nothing to do with being right and everything to do with being happy. I was talking to my best girlfriend, the one who always rationalizes things so effortlessly.
She said, “You do realize, there is no wrong decision here? Having a third baby will never be the wrong decision. Maybe you just need to get to the place where it goes beyond right or wrong. Let all of that go. Don’t overthink it. Just live. What do you dream for your family? Figure that out… and go for it.”
I let myself sit with that for a few days. And then I let myself dream, something that doesn’t come naturally to my logistical, overthinking mind. I saw three kids. I saw baby toys all over the floor, my two older kids laughing as bubbles dribbled out of our new baby’s mouth. I saw myself rocking a baby in the corner of our living room, scribbling into a journal next to the chair. I could almost smell that new baby smell. It made me smile.
There is no right or wrong way to build your family
All we have are dreams and time. You are enough, right now, for your present-day kids AND for the ones who may or may not grow inside of you in the future. Forget about right and wrong. Don’t overthink it. Just live.
