I’m Not Ready to Stop Having Kids, But My Husband Is

February is a month of big deals: My sister is getting married; I turn 40; and, oh, my husband is getting a vasectomy.

While February is already shaping up to be quite the monumental month, there is also a dreadful voice in my head that keeps floating up from my ovaries telling me, “Selena...the babies? You want more. Three is the magical number. Your kids want another sibling so bad. You don’t have much time left to get crackin’, because come February your biological clock gets hella loud and will be smashing right into your husband’s snippety plans.” You might say there's a lot going on.

...oh, my husband is getting a vasectomy.

So, I guess this is a better time than any to leave a note for my husband: if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. But you knew that once we got over the initial shock of actually being able to have kids — after being infertile for so long — I wanted three kids. And yes, I knew you only wanted two.

With February just around the corner, I've got a lot on my mind.

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The dreadful voice whispers sweet nothings about big families and many siblings, and even tricks my neurological receptors into literally smelling all the sweet baby smells.

And there are other voices, too. They are much more sensible, reminding me of my age (again, with the age!) and how big my kids have become. It reminds me that since they've grown up, they're less physically demanding, and they are less prone to depriving me of sleep.

I am reminded (it’s a powerful voice, this maternal one) of the financial obligations. And the inevitable strain on my marriage.

Yet, with all this in mind, I keep dreaming of babies, smelling babies and wanting babies. Even when there are absolutely no babies in sight.

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It’s not all the time, but the thoughts come more frequently. And making this decision once and for all has become a rather pressing one for me, because, well, time is almost up. It just all feels so final.

Beyond the voices, I am able to ask myself more sensible, honest questions, like “Does my family feel complete? Have I not been challenged enough? What sort of sicko am I?”

...time is almost up. It just all feels so final

And even when fully immersed in the darker side of baby fever (the unrelenting voices!), I will hesitate when someone asks me if I’m done having babies. 

Ultimately, what my future holds is unclear, but in the end, I’m not going to be absolutely heartbroken if we don’t have another child. But honestly … if my husband were on board, I’d be Googling cute newborn photoshoot ideas, ordering onesies and reading stories about what it’s really like to have three kids. And I'd do it all while simultaneously convincing myself that pregnancy wasn’t that bad.