Ortho-Cept

My husband is under the impression that we are done having kids. Our three year-old only sleeps through the night half the time, and our infant is awake for at least seven hours a day. Plus, kids are expensive. Which is not to say that we can't pay our bills, but I can't afford weekly pedicures, either. We need our time alone, need some couple time, need the house to sometimes be quiet, need to have a sense of sanity and control. Two kids will sometimes allow for some of those things. Three kids tip the scale.

I feel just as passionately about these things as he does. But I also love the way my baby son's lower lip curles over his very shapely chin, and the way he breathes all satisfied when he nurses, and his looks of total adoration... I can hardly stand the thought of those things evolving into mature smiles and grunts (darling as they will be) in just a few months, with the newborn stuff gone forever.

Of course, I could use that same argument for having ten children. But that's not what I'm getting at.

I'm just not done yet.

Now, I'm not going to flush my birth control pills down the toilet anytime soon. This is a joint decision, and the rational side of me agrees with him completely.

Sometimes I feel like two is the perfect number. Our boys love each other. Charlie is crazy affectionate with Will, always aiming to please, and despite his intense attachment to me, he never shows jealousy toward his baby brother. Will is easily amused with the slightest snort, sneeze, or fart that his brother produces. Why mess with something perfect?

I'm brainwashing myself into believing this is all that's important.