i get asked the question a lot.
it honestly doesn’t bother me (this isn’t a ‘mind your business’ rant), it just …troubles me, a little.
because really? i have no idea. and i guess i feel like i should.
i took a photo the other night of greg and the girls and the frame just looks so complete. which feels so strange for me to say, because while wanting more than one child was never in question for me, there was a time that wanting more than two children wasn’t much of a question, either.
lately i look at our family of four and i get knocked over with a feeling of simple joy - happiness, wholeness, a sense that things are good and steady; a complete sentence. and all that in equal measure with all the expected feelings of anxiety about rocking this boat.
and that makes me think i have my answer.
but then i remember my gut feelings, a picture of a giant family that once occupied a huge space in my mind, and i feel like i’ve betrayed myself in some strange way.
not knowing is almost entirely ok with me. there’s a peace that comes with not making a decision like this - a ‘decision’ which isn’t entirely mine to make anyway (yes obviously there’s greg’s feelings to consider, but i’m referring to forces beyond either of our control).
it’s strange to me, i guess, that i never wondered about this ‘last time.’ but i guess that’st just called growing up - feeling comfortable and present and with a sense that, yes, this is enough.
and yet, i know there will always be plenty more love to give, just in case.
in the meantime… are we done? i have no idea.