“This is our family. Right now, this feels complete and perfect. Maybe, in the future, it won’t anymore, and then, that’s when we really consider what’s next. But, until that feeling comes, let’s just enjoy this. This wonderful, perfect, complete family of three.”

We were sitting outside at a local Mexican restaurant, watching William devour an entire bowl of salsa and tortilla chips as we enjoyed the best complement to cold beer: a toddler, content in a high chair for any amount of time longer than five minutes. Mr. Milk’s statement, above, was in response to a question that we’ve been ping-ponging for a few months now: do we want another child?

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“Of course you’ll have a second kid,” general wisdom (and my mother) says. But it hasn’t hit yet – that urge, that feeling spurring me to remove my IUD and throw caution to the wind. I’d love to snuggle another newborn, I’d even love to be pregnant again, as I was one of those annoyingly happy pregnant women. I’m just not sure those two things outweigh all the other truths: I’m happy. I love William, so much it fills my heart. Sleep deprivation does not serve me well. I still get a hit of anxiety when Will goes through a rougher-than-perfect phase of sleep. I’m not convinced I need another baby to feel complete, and I’m not convinced having an only child will mean only negatives for Will.

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There are a variety of positives to having an only child. My favorites include the lesser impact on the environment (the elimination of our role in the overpopulation of the earth) and the ability to focus so much of our resources, time, and energy on one kid. Save for one kid’s college rather than two? Ok! Plan a family vacation without needing to rent a cot? Yes! Only doing the hardest parts of each phase once? Maybe the best reason of all, for postpartum anxiety prone women!

On the other side, of course, is that Will is already demonstrating a love of helping, caring, for others. He could be an ideal sibling. He’s at the age where he has a slight obsession with babies and points out every single one he sees and asks for “more babies” whenever he can  As we plan to live abroad in coming years, the lack of a built-in friend, travel mate, companion is a real potential concern. If we’re going to make Will fit our life, doesn’t it mean we owe it to him to provide him a peer, a colleague, who can be his equal and help him learn how to socialize?

Maybe it’s because my brother and I are nearly five years apart, and my husband and his brother are spaced by six years. Maybe it’s because “but he might turn out to be spoiled, self-centered and weird” isn’t a good enough reason to have another (plus, kids can totally be all of these things and have a MYRIAD of siblings!). Maybe it’s because we haven’t ruled out adopting children, but we absolutely have ruled out more than two children total. Maybe it’s because all of the articles about sibling spacing just make me think that a minimum of three years sounds just lovely. Maybe it’s because I’m overthinking it.

At the end of the day, I’m waiting. Waiting to know that we absolutely have to raise another child, waiting for that moment that our family doesn’t feel complete. And until that feeling is clear, ringing in my ears, nonstop, day in and out, the same way I felt when we longed for William, I’ll keep waiting, loving on this toddler and his papa.