Limbo

A couple of months ago, my husband came home from work and asked how my day was.

"Well," I said, "I took a pregnancy test."

His eyes bugged out and his hair stood on end. "WHAT?!!? Why? What did it say?"

"Put your eyes back into your head, "I said. "It was negative."

What had happened was that I had been muddling along for some weeks, dealing with a bunch of vague physical symptoms, when one day it hit me. CLUNK. Sinus troubles, back pain, fatigue, chronic headaches, late afternoon nausea and nighttime leg cramps were all symptoms that I had during both of my pregnancies.

My first thought was, "That would make a lot of sense." If I'm being honest, my second thought was, "Oh. Crap."

Once the idea was there, there was no burying it. I could have waited a couple of weeks to see how I felt or I could have made an appointment to see my doctor. But everytime I reached for more diet soda or lifted something heavy or took an xray at work or cleaned something with bleach, a little voice in my head whispered, "What if...?"

I had to know. So I went to the store and bought a test.

As I said, it was negative. And that negative result came with a hefty sense of relief. But it just highlights the limbo I'm stuck in between being done with pregnancy and babies and wanting more children.

After Johnny was born, I knew I still wanted another baby. Not immediately, mind you, but soon. So when I became pregnant with Maureen, I was a little nervous but mostly thrilled. After Maureen's birth, though, I didn't feel the same. Mostly, I was tired. And the idea of adding another to the mix made me feel more tired.

I once heard of a woman who said she knew she was finished having kids when she no longer wanted to hold other people's babies. If that's the case, then we're done. Five of my friends have had babies in the past eighteen months and I haven't wanted to hold any of them. The only baby I've wanted to hold is my nephew, Noah, and when he was born, I drove half an hour to see him for ten minutes because I couldn't wait to get my hands on him. Then again, when he gets fussy, it's kind of nice to hand him over to my brother.

My basement is filled with strollers and baby gear and bins full of outgrown clothes. Do you have any idea how much extra storage space we would have if I knew we were done and could pass along all that stuff? But what if we do have more? Shouldn't we keep all the stuff, just in case?

Johnny is at a really good age right now, as far as being able to do things. He's potty trained. He's out of the crib and stroller. He can feed himself and even get his own juice out of the fridge. He can dress himself and buckle himself into his carseat. He can entertain himself and can even be trusted to be left alone for short periods while I do something elsewhere in the house.

Maureen is growing up too. She's walking, talking, finished with bottles and breastfeeding and being up every 27 minutes to eat. She can feed herself too, is learning how to put her clothes on, and is old enough to interact with other kids.

Judging by my husband's reaction, he thinks we're done. Except for those times when he says, "Well, maybe we'll feel differently in a few years when they are both in school." But Maureen won't start kindergarten until she is almost six. That's four years away. Will we want to start over again with diapers and middle of the night feedings and sleep deprivation when we already have a six year old and a four year old?

If there's one thing I envy, it's women who look at their kids and say, "One boy, one girl. I'm satisfied. We're done." They can give away their highchairs and tiny onesies and baby videos and never look back. Me, I'm stuck crossing my fingers and hoping the test says negative, while hanging onto those bins of clothes and strollers and infant bathtubs.

How about you? How did you know when your family was complete?