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“HOLD ME! I scared of the snowman!”

Sunny’s slender, lanky limbs envelope her baby sister in a full body embrace. Kaki peeks out over the edge of Sunny’s arm, fortified with her big sister’s comfort, braving the images of the big, bad snowman. Even after the scene has passed, the sisters remain pressed against one another, legs and arms a tangle of sibling love and connection.

Daily, moments such as these play out before me and James. We’ve entered a magical new stage where both girls can really play and connect and be together in a meaningful and independent capacity from their parents. They don’t need us to initiate play or referee interaction. They do it all on their own.

We find them enacting dramatic play where Sunny is the “baby” and Courtland is the “mommy,” and so Courtland covers her “baby” in blankets, including her own beloved whale blankie, and she rubs her back and sings her lullabies, and James and I are sidelined by a tenderness and creativity and love that lays us bare. Sunny teaches Kaki how to paint a rainbow, side by side on her drawing easel. Tea parties. and dress up, and airplane flights, and puzzles, and song and dance, and bowling, and camping, and, and, and… So much, and heart exploding, and amazing amazingness, and…

We lie in bed at night whispering across the pillows. Did you see what they did today? How are they ours? Can you get over how cute/smart/sweet/considerate/thoughtful/insert positive adjective that was?

We are so stupidly lucky.

Lucky. We feel that every single day, even on the days when sleep deprivation and tantrums and attitude and messes and frustration are the predominate experience. We lie in bed whispering words of gratitude. Ever amazed at what we’ve created.

_________________________

You have to have another baby with that man.

The flight attendant on our trip home from Florida wildly gesticulated that I remove my headphone as I sat in the aisle across from James and the girls. She shared this unfiltered advice? request? demand?, observing the involved and engaged roll James had in our girls’ upbringing (at least in that three hours of air travel).

No, seriously. Do you know how often I see that? *Waves dramatically over James playing with the girls who are entertained and happy* Hardly ever. You’ve got yourself a good one. Now go make another baby. Seriously. I’ll stand here and watch the kids and you two can head to the bathroom.

By this point, heads around us had turned to our conversation as I sat awkwardly nodding and smiling. Sure, yes, James is an awesome parent. And I am grateful that we share that responsibility. And that people notice and appreciate that is cool, too. But when people bring up the “have another baby” conversation, I’m always left squirming uncomfortably, whether that’s because I’ve been encouraged by my flight attendant to join the mile high club or merely in private conversation with dear friends.

While I adore my family immensely, and I love being a mom and being a parent with James, I honestly have no idea how I feel about expanding our family further.

I feel so very whole. Complete. Satisfied. We’re in such an exciting stage of parenting as we’ve begun to see what life looks like when your children can feed themselves, walk independently, use a toilet, advocate/communicate their wants/needs/fears/joys. It’s a brave new world.

On a very basic level, do I want to go “backwards” and rewind the clock to the days of diapers and strollers and cribs and nap schedules and breastfeeding and childcare expenses and dependence? And on a more complicated level, do I want to take on the responsibility of parenting more human beings? What will the impact be on my girls? What will that mean for our lives now and 10, 20, 30 years down the line? Do I even want to ever go through pregnancy again and if so, just once? Twice? Now that I’m in the 30s, will I even be able to experience healthy pregnancy? I was so fortunate to have had the pregnancies I did, and yet there is no guarantee. My eyes are wide open having seen the tragedy and heartbreak that’s possible. Do I want to take that risk? I’ve always been drawn to adoption – but how do we finance it? What would it mean for that child? For our family? When? How? Timing? Risks? Finances? Consequences? In addition to considering the complexities of pregnancy and adoption, you might also want to contemplate the impact on your family’s financial situation. Evaluating your real estate finance and housing market options is essential, as it can affect your ability to support a growing family, whether through natural childbirth or adoption. Weighing the costs, potential consequences, and timing of such investments can play a significant role in your decision-making process. Be sure to consult with financial advisors and explore various funding methods to make an informed choice that aligns with your family’s goals and aspirations.

I’m so caught up in the minutia, but that’s because the bigger picture isn’t yet clear. How can I possibly feel so whole and yet when I close my eyes and envision life 20 years from now, I see a family larger than the one before me now? I will need to reconcile that disconnect sometime, but I’m grateful that it does not have to be now. One of the upsides of starting our family so young is that I feel no particular pressure, save when I’m being bombarded on airplanes by observant, bold strangers, to have answers to these questions.

And so they marinate and stew and (I hope) begin working their way to answers. And in the meantime, I have this. And boy, it feels like all I’ll ever need.

At least for now.