This summer, Rachel and I had the rare opportunity to spend some time together without her little sister. On one of these fine mornings, we took a ferry ride together. It was a wonderful, brilliant, calm big-girl event. There was no toddler to chase around the boat. We sat next to each other quietly, she eating her pretzels, me drinking my coffee. Calmly.
At that moment it I saw it. Do you know what I'm talking about? The light at the end of the tunnel. In about a year and a half Hannah would be settling down, too. We could have these rides all together. We could go to ballets together and I could relax and breath easy. Well, a bit easier, anyway.
It was very exciting, that light at the end of the tunnel. I felt light and joyful. I would miss my babies, and my toddlers, but I was ready for sanity and order. I confirmed to myself what I had been thinking all summer. I was done. This was my family. My heart was full enough. Bursting in fact. And I had plans. Such plans. My spare time would be used well.
But then it happened again. (No, not that. I'm not pregnant.) Just as the battle in my head over whether to have another child had been won, it started up again with a vengeance. Like the time I packed up all of Hannah's baby clothes wanting once and for all to silence the voices in my head. As soon as I happily dropped the boxes off, the "I want one more" voice stood up with a vengeance and demanded to be heard.
At some point it was silenced again. I'm not sure when exactly. A few mothers I knew with new third-borns were telling me how crazy things were for them. That settled it for a while. It also helped that Hannah was challenging me physically with her climbing. I had my hands full.
Back to this summer. After that ferry ride, when I thought all had been decided, one of my friends showed up to a playgroup with a new baby girl. There had been new babies in the group, but this one was a girl and dressed in a fuzzy pink sleeper. Nothing against boys, but the fact that it was a girl brought back specific memories and those feelings. I'm not one of those mothers that keeps wanting more children because she wants a baby around. It's actually quite the opposite. I love babies. Don't get me wrong. I have loved every minute of each of my children's babyhoods and toddlerhoods. But when I'm done, I look back and it suddenly hits me how hard it all was. And I don’t want to go through it all again. There was no yearning to have a second baby. I had to close my eyes and just do it. What I get nostalgic for is not the new baby, but the new life. That feeling of having this life in your life that you never fully comprehended....anticipated. The indescribable feeling of having been given a gift that is beyond expectations.
I wrote once in my 100 Things list that on a daily basis, there is a battle going on in my head between the sensible side of me that is satisfied with two children and the wild side of me that wants one more.
Do you want to know what the battle sounds like?
Voice 1: You don't want a third. You've reached your limit. Don't press your luck. You'll just wish you had stopped at two. You will be completely overwhelmed. You'll turn into one of those pitiful mothers of three that you sometimes see and feel sorry for. You can't handle it.
Voice 2: Maybe you're right, but my children are drawn to larger families. They are social and clearly want another sibling. And besides, aren’t they beautiful? Don’t you want to see what a third one would look like and be like?
Voice 1: But your attention is already divided as it is. You're not going to be able to play board games with your girls as they grow older if there is a little toddler running around. You can forget about private schools. It will be harder to travel abroad together like you have been wanting to do more of when the girls are older
Voice 2: I see your point, but I'm getting better at this divided-attention thing. My toddler is settling down now. I feel like I have breathing room. I was going to look into the public schools anyway. There is always the option of going back to work to pay for private schools when the children are all school age. And what's one more plane ticket in the grand scheme of things. If we can figure out a way to go abroad, surely we can find a way to squeeze one more ticket in.
Voice 1: Your life is perfect right now. Your house is the perfect size for two kids. Both kids will be in pre-school before you know it and then you can start working on your own projects again. You don't want to have to give up your office space for a baby.
Voice 2: I know. I've been very excited about that prospect of working on MY work again. Even so, something feels a little off about this new space opening up. Something feels a little too perfect. When I was young and looked forward to my life, my plans were always about adventure, never perfection. And on a practical level, Rachel and Hannah would love to share a room. That's obvious. When they get older we'll figure another arrangement out...or move if we have to.
Voice 1: Don't you remember those moments that you hit the wall when Hannah was a baby and you weren't getting sleep. It will get even worse with another baby. You'll be a bad mother. You'll lose control completely.
Voice 2. You are right. I could become a bad mother.
(Long Pause)
Voice 1: What if something is wrong with the baby? What if you get pregnant with twins? You know they run in your family.
Voice 2: (Quiet. Thinking. Scared.)
Do you remember those mothers with the new third-borns that were telling me how crazy things were? Well, last spring I attended a birthday party at one of these mother's houses. They had a local singer/guitar-player there, and there were only four girls dancing: Rachel and my friend's three daughters. It was the most beautiful sight seeing the siblings twirling around together. That family is happy and it is one of the few families that Rachel covets, wishing at times it was her own. The other family that holds a spot like this in Rachel's heart is my sister's family, with four kids.
So, perhaps Voice 1 won the battle of the mind up there. The problem is I've got a very strong heart. And these days my heart sees three children dancing in my living room. This is strange because I never had visions like this about my first two. I always had to jump without a vision--take a giant leap of faith.
The other thing is, Voice 1 has no sense of adventure and she's trying to persuade me by drawing upon my fears. I don't want to get to the end of my life and realize I missed out on an adventure I deeply wanted because I was scared.
But to answer my question, "Is two enough?" I say, of course it is enough. Heck, one was enough. Despite my struggles, my cup was and is overflowing over with magic and blessings. If I never had another child, I would be the luckiest person alive.
And you know what? If I hadn't been able to have children, I think that would have been enough, too. I would have used that time to do everything that I am not able to do now. To have adventures unavailable to me as a mother.
But this is where life has landed me. There is room in my life for one more life. I think we can handle it financially and otherwise, as challenging as it might turn out to be. My husband very freely says the decision is all mine. He would be happy with one more.
And I say.....yes.
I'm going to take these next six months to enjoy coasting while I get this body strong and healthy, and then we'll see if I am able to have another.
And if it doesn't happen, I will say, Thank you, God. Thank you, life. Two is enough. Two is amazing. Hand me another cup of coffee. Isn't the view of the city from the water fantastic?
Is Two Enough?
