By: Bella Turner
Updated: Oct. 4, 2021
Originally Published: Sep. 12, 2015
I had my youngest child when I was just 26. With a son and a daughter, my husband and I decided we were done expanding our family. By “we,” I mean my husband, Mark, was done. He only had one sibling and always envisioned having just two kids. I, on the other hand, grew up as a middle child and always imagined myself as a mom of three. But there we were, in our mid-20s, dreaming of traveling and experiencing the world—things that would be tough to do with a bunch of little ones in tow. Plus, we would be 42 (yikes!) by the time our daughter started high school. So, I reluctantly agreed. I was about to turn 30, and who really wants to have a baby at that age, right?
Then I hit 30. Suddenly, my biological clock started ticking loudly. My youngest was in preschool, and I found myself longing for the days of having a baby around. It seemed like every other friend in her 30s was announcing a pregnancy. They weren’t sweating the idea of advanced maternal age or worrying about being 50 at graduation time.
I began dropping hints to Mark. “How about just one more baby?” “We’re still young!” “Look how adorable they are!” When that didn’t work, I started begging. “I need this! My heart feels incomplete,” and my personal favorite, “I never got to take maternity photos!” Eventually, he caved (or I wore him down): we’d try for one more baby, but with a catch—I had to conceive within a year. If it didn’t happen in the next 12 months, that was it.
Having taken a few months to get pregnant with my first two, I knew I had to be proactive. I got ovulation kits, pregnancy tests, and even signed up for an online fertility tracker to monitor my basal body temperature and other fun fertility signs like “egg white cervical mucus.” I even ordered a special sperm-friendly lube that was supposed to help things along. Crazy? Maybe, but I was determined!
But then it didn’t happen.
Month 1:
The week I thought would be perfect for trying (I never quite figured out that fertility tracker) I got nervous. What if I got pregnant right away? Was I ready for 16 weeks of morning sickness? Plus, we had a trip to Vegas coming up. Okay, let’s try next month.
Month 2:
I realized a baby would be due around Christmas. No thanks. Next month it is.
Month 3:
My second child was born a month early. I didn’t want to risk a Christmas baby. Next month sounds good.
Month 4:
Vegas! Drinks! Gambling! Better safe than sorry. Next month.
Months 5, 6, and 7:
Summer vacations! Cancun? Yes, please. I love margaritas and seafood. Let’s wait until the kids are back in school.
Month 8:
My youngest is in kindergarten. Do I really want to start over? Does Mark genuinely want another child, or is he just agreeing to make me happy? What if I miscarry like we did the first time? I already have two amazing kids. Why am I even considering this? Will having another baby satisfy this longing, or will I forever want just one more? I’m so conflicted. Maybe this isn’t the right moment.
Month 9:
Let’s just get a dog.
In the end, I couldn’t go through with it. Even though my heart still yearned for a baby, my hesitation was a clear sign that maybe it wasn’t meant to be. I finally accepted that I might always feel a bit incomplete. Perhaps this is a common feeling among mothers, especially those who have experienced loss. Either way, a new baby just wasn’t in the cards for us.
Now, at 39, something remarkable has happened. For the first time since getting married, I no longer feel that urge for a new baby. It could be the vibrant energy of my new nieces and nephews or maybe my biological clock is simply winding down. Whatever the reason, I now look at my family, and for the first time, I see us as whole.
In summary, the journey of wanting another child can be filled with conflicting emotions and societal pressures. It’s important to recognize when the time is right, and sometimes, the best decision is to appreciate the family you have.