Mark and I were having our regular mock argument today regarding (read in dark, ominous tones) the vasectomy. You know, the usual, where I say, you're getting it, right? And he says, over my cooling corpse, that sort of deal.
So today I said, so are we decided then, that we're not having anymore? And he got serious and said that he would absolutely love to have one more, but doesn't think we should. Not for any financial reasons, because we could always manage somehow. But his main reason was that since Phoenix is having potential troubles with his language development etc at school, and Keegan has his own developmental issues regarding speech and other areas, we should really focus on the boys, and not bring a new child into the mix that could possible take our time away from them when they really needed us. And he was right. And that's probably why I cried.
It's one thing to tell everyone, "Oh yeah, we're done," or "Oh, never say never," when you haven't really decided. But now that we have, it's just so final. I love my kids so much, they are my life; that's why I would love to have more. And petty and small as it sounds, there was that tiny part of my heart still yearning for a daughter. And that missing daughter is who I cry for. My Mom and I had such an awesome relationship, and I was so hoping to have the same with a daughter of my own...
Well, enough of that pity party. Stepping back from the situation, I know that Mark and I have been blessed not once, but three times by having the beautiful children that we do. I couldn't love them more. And every day with them is a gift. I will no longer cry for the children I don't have, but for the people who don't have any at all.
I said in another post that my mother was once asked why she had four (horrors!) children. And that she coldly looked the questioner in the eye and replied, "I suppose because we didn't have five." Well said, Mom.