I hope you don’t mind if I reminisce for a bit. Back in 2009, before Hellobee existed, Mr. Jacks and I conceived our first daughter somewhat unexpectedly on our honeymoon. We knew we wanted a baby, but I was 38 at the time, so people (including my physicians) told me to anticipate at least a year of trying before successful conception. We had our fertility plan all mapped out and ready in the event that we weren’t conceiving. Imagine our surprise when 3 weeks into our marriage we realized we would be having a child in the next nine months. What an amazing wedding present! It’s a gift that I never take for granted.

Our life was a blissful blur as a family of three for about a year. When our first daughter turned a year old, it was like a light switch was turned on again and we realized that we wanted a second child.  At this point, I was staring down the barrel of 40 years old. Because I was a terrible baby house with hyperemesis, pregnancy induced hypertension and placental issues and because of the increased risk of chromosomal abnormalities, we decided that we would add to our family through adoption. We always knew adoption was something we wanted to do anyway. It just made logical sense to grow the family that way.

After much paperwork, Jack Jack came along 9 months later. Suddenly, we were a family of four.  Our lives felt complete.  Having 2 children allowed us to stretch and grow– and provided us with so much joy.  As Jack Jack grew though, I had a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that this was the last time I’d be experiencing infancy, first words, first steps.  Who knew I was going to love being a mama this much?!

I would watch my girls play together and would think back on my experience in a big family. Maybe it’s that experience that shaped my growing feelings for a possible third child? Or maybe it was the fact that I haven’t experienced raising a boy?  Maybe it’s a notion that each child has grown our joy and that one more could only add to that.

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I tried to figure out how Mr. Jacks would feel about a third child. He was pretty confident that we were done building our family.  The conversation went something like this:

Me: “So, just wondering if you feel like our family is complete?”

Him: “Yes, yes. I’m done. Our family is perfect the way it is.”

Me: “Hmm, well I’m not as sure as you.”

Him: “You probably just feel that way because you’re at an age where it won’t be an option any more.”

There’s a ton of truth to that, I’m sure.  But, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that there might be a missing piece to our family.

I’ve learned to live with the feeling that maybe something (or someone) was missing.  It’s almost like I felt that an essential part of my being, like an arm, wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

But marriage is about compromise and working as a team, so while I’d check in once in a while about whether Mr. Jacks was still feeling the same way, I also resigned my self to getting used to that empty spot. I’d fill it in other ways.

As we kept the conversation open, we finally decided that we wouldn’t do anything active to bring a baby into our lives. Mr. Jacks adapted a little by being open to the possibility if fate willed it to be so, and I let go of my goal-oriented push towards adding another child to the family. If someone asked us to place their baby with us, we’d say yes wholeheartedly, but we wouldn’t look for a placement. We wouldn’t actively try to conceive either, but we would be open to a spontaneous moment if it came about (after all, at my age the fertility statistics are shockingly dismal). Mr. Jacks said something that really set the course for how I think about this.  He said, “You know, whatever we’ve done, we’ve always thrived. We’ll be just fine the way things are or if something changes. Let’s not over think this too much.”

And it was how I came to peace with our decision to not actively seek out a third child and be open to all of the possibilities that life has in store for us.