Just this week, both of my children have asked for another sibling, out of the blue and I wasn't really prepared for it.
My six year old boy casually said on the way to school one day, "I wish I had a brother who liked the same stuff as me."
And tonight, after Miss 3 was shattered by her big brother scrunching up her drawing, she said, "We need a little boy who is not naughty. Because little boys aren't naughty. Or a little girl."
My heart felt heavy both times.
Immediately I felt a million questions being raised.
Well, perhaps not a million, but these few...
Am I being selfish stopping at two?
Why didn't I start earlier?
Why didn't I meet my husband earlier?
Am I being selfish...oh...I said that already....
Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted three or four kids.
I grew up with a brother and a sister...three kids.
I always thought two children was not a 'proper' family.
But when I met my husband, at 31, we both thought two would be good.
I was six weeks away from turning 36 when our beautiful baby boy was born.
And six weeks away from 39 when our little angel daughter was born.
In three weeks they'll be seven and four, and I'll be almost 43.
I know women have babies at 43, but I don't want to be one of them.
I feel done.
Pregnancy was hell for me.
I have arthritis, and for a lot of women it goes into remission during pregnancy.
Not for me, it was way worse.
The pain was ridiculous.
It hurt to get into bed, get out of bed,
sit down, stand up,
get into the car, get out of the car,
walk to the car in the carpark,
push a shopping trolley,
basically if I moved, it hurt, a lot.
So I just don't feel I can do it again.
And again I ask myself...
Am I being selfish?