Is three really the magic number?

Is three really the magic number?

NEW: Blogger and mammy Ruth Chambers' weekly take on toddler and parenting dramas

Sarah is currently two and a half but she will always be my baby. She may be an actual baby anymore, she’s turning into a little girl and sometimes it makes me sad.

I always said I wanted two children and 99.9 per cent of the time I still feel the same way. When I see her growing up though, there’s a teeny tiny part of me that questions that decision. Daddy Chambers has a ‘we’ll see’ approach to the whole situation and certainly hasn’t ruled out having a third. Perhaps the fact that I’m writing this means I haven’t ruled it out either but I’m not convinced three is a magic number.

On a practical level having two children works great for us. We have a four bedroomed house which means a room each for the smallies, one for us and a playroom/spare room should anyone feel inclined to stay over. We all fit into our car without any issues and while on a financial level, having two isn’t cheap, but we manage it. Adding a third into the mix would mean two new cars and even more junk in the house. Plus, convinced I’m done, I’ve sold a lot of my baby essentials like the infant car seat and the double buggy. Perhaps if Sarah had been a boy I would have been reluctant to draw a line in the sand.

My first pregnancy was really lovely. Aside from a bit of gestational diabetes I had a breeze of a time. I had zero sickness, not a huge amount of tiredness but the second time round was a lot different. I wasn’t sick or tired really but lugging around a one year old, while growing another small human was tough going, while the back pain was excruciating.

I’m quite lucky that, for the most part, Aidan and Sarah both sleep through the night and I don’t think I could handle sleepless nights again. Certainly not with two anyway. At the moment Sarah is like a velcro, stuck to me and wails if anyone else so much as looks at her, so I’m not sure if she’d cope with a younger sibling!

We've long finished up with formula, sterlising bottles and pre-boiling water. She's still in nappies but Aidan is long out of them. We're hoping to train her in the summer so we'll be able to bid the Pampers farewell.

I’m 35 later this year, young enough to have plenty more children according to some of my friends. Except I don’t feel young. Well sometimes I do, like during a rare night out or when I’m bounding round the kitchen pretending I’m a monkey to keep the pair entertained. I don’t feel young at 6am every morning though and I don’t feel young in the evening after a trying day.

Then I think about other mammies who have three, four, five and even more children and feel like a complete and utter wuss! There I am complaining about tiredness and trying episodes and I only have two small people and a husband to take care of!

And then, of course, there’s the other side of my brain that can smell a newborn; that can recall that perfect moment when your child is handed to you for the first time after birth. There’s nothing like newborn cuddles; nothing like bringing another human into the world. There’s nothing like leaving the hospital and bringing a small person in the door and making them part of the furniture in your home. Protection is everything.

Some people tell me to have a third relatively quickly because if I go too far beyond the baby stage it will be even harder to go back. But I couldn’t possibly commit to such an act. Right now I don’t want another one. I don’t think my head could handle another one. Is it bad to say that?

My heart could alright but I doubt the noggin’ side of things. I’ve said it before, I stress easily and I like to be in control; two things that aren’t conducive to being a mammy. Even thinking about the logistics of having another one is making me stress.

I have a gentleman’s family. I’ve had two healthy children and for that I am so grateful and indeed releived. Our lives are hectic and at this very point in time, making them more hectic would be foolish.

But then again Sarah, although she smells good, doesn’t smell new. She needs me, but not as much as she used to. She’s growing up and fast. This makes me sad but so too do toddler tantrums.

A few weeks before Aidan’s first birthday I started to think the same by the way. And we all know how that ended up!

If you’re looking for me, you’ll find me sitting on the fence!

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