Three is the new Two?

Last night Mr. b and I talked about vasectomies. He’s apparently been doing some research about them and is not at all encouraged by what he’s read. He doesn’t want one. And honestly, that’s fine. I don’t mind taking the pill. I’ve been on it for nearly 20 years now. I take iron pills every day anyway so it’s not really any big deal to take two pills at night instead of just one. I told him that if we just keep going like we have been, there’s always a chance of an Oops, though we never had so much as a scare before I was off the pill. But more than that, I warned him that I might want to have another kid at some point in the next 7 or so years.

I’m the oldest of three kids so there’s always going to be something in the back of my head that tells me that’s the “right” number of kids to have. When Ronnie was first born I felt very strongly that I was going to want another one. I’m not sure why but now, not nearly as much. Yet it’s not faded completely so I can’t discount the notion that the nagging could resurface someday. Mr. b was quite appalled by the possibility and just went with the idea that he’ll “say no” and that is that. I don’t know that it would be so simple.

Alongside the experience of being one of three is a more primal, genetic, animal, base desire to propagate the species, ensure the continuation of my line, immortality through my progeny. There’s a collective memory of high infant mortality and the need for more hands to help sustain the subsistence. Is that a real issue? We’re probably not going to actually have an apocalypse in my lifetime, much to Mr. b’s despair. And possibly my time in the field – where I excavated infant remains that were in the trash midden, treated with the respect of being put in a nice jar at least – colors my impression of it more than someone that has only academic knowledge of the changes modern health technology has wrought. I feel quite strongly Kirk would not have survived even a century ago. So all of this adds up to something inside me akin to the Royal saying of “an heir and a spare”.

I don’t know how I would go on if I lost one of my kids. But I especially don’t know how I would go on if I lost both of my kids. So having another one I guess would be insurance of a sick sort. But even understanding my psyche in all of this, do I really want to go through it all again? The pregnancy and the birth and the sleepless nights. I don’t know. But I’m not ready to give up the option.