In The Middle

All eyelashes, cheeks, and lips

As a young girl, I never really thought about being a mother when I grew up. I focuses, instead, on being a veterinarian. I had it all worked out, I'd be a vet to Shamu and her friends during the summer, and I'd come back to my humble little town in the winter months to tend to my own ranch animals and run my small veterinarian office. The perfect plan. But as I got older, my career goals changed a bit, but I never really focused on being a mom. I mean, sure, I knew I wanted to get married and have babies, but I didn't know what that meant for me. What my ideal life looked like.

It wasn't until I met Brad that I started thinking about those things. It hit me pretty hard. Once I realized that I was in love with him, it was like a crash landing with life. I was cruising along in my hypothetical little Bug, when life jerked the wheel, and I came crashing into a detour sign that left me shaken, yet a bit excited. Suddenly, there was so much more to life. A wedding, and a home with the man I love, and, GASP, children! Or, a child? One, two, twelve? I honestly didn't know. But, the more I thought about it, the more three or four seemed like a good, solid number. I take comfort in packs. 

So, Brad hitched my hypothetical little Bug to his hypothetical pickup truck, and we started cruising through life together. And along came Mylee. Our world was a much brighter place with her around. Flowers smelt better, birds chirped a bit louder. Everything was perfect. Now, y'all know this story. After she came along, I wasn't sure I wanted anymore. How could I love someone else even half as much as I loved her!? And then, my heart found room for Dax. I can't imagine life without him. How did it all seem so perfect before? We were clearly missing a piece to our beautiful puzzle.

And now we're here. I'm 30, Brad's 34, Mylee and Dax are 6 and 15 months, I said I wouldn't have another until he was at least 18 months, which we're quickly approaching. We are stuck in the middle. Do we make the choice to have more children? Do I even want more? I think I do. But that fear keeps creeping back in, "Will I love the others the way I love my first two?" Logic says yes, my crazy irrational brain says no. How do you know, with absolute sureness, that you're done? I once thought I was done. There was no convincing me that I needed another. And then that changed. When, if ever, are you absolutely, positively, without a doubt, sure?

I guess I can only hope and pray that time will tell. In the meantime, I'll be over here holding on to these a little too tightly and trying to find my voice of reason.