Anyone who has seen Liv in person will agree that she’s petite, but according to the all important “growth chart” she is only in the 10th percentile for weight and 20th for height. At almost 15 months, she hasn’t even broken 20 pounds yet, but the kid can eat…a lot. Even though I’m with her every day, it still seems impossible that such a little person can walk. Her feet are so small that I’m amazed they actually work. She dances through the house on her tiny toes, singing songs in her sweet voice, giggling at the antics of her older brother who is delighted by the sudden emergence of an always eager playmate. Watching them interact makes me wonder if there’s room for one more…

I’ve been going back and forth over the last month or so about wanting a third child. I think it has to do with Liv walking, talking and expressing her independence and individuality. My children are pretty cool. Kade is a never ending source of entertainment and Liv has a way of warming your soul with her smile. They are funny. They are friends. They are fascinating to watch. They are sooo much work.

Over the course of a single day I can waiver back and forth at least 10 times. It’s usually when I’m trying to hold Liv to keep her hands off the public restroom floor, while attempting to help Kade get his pants down as I’m kneeling inches from vile bodily substances that are threatening to soak the one pair of decent jeans I own that I decide…nope, two is enough. I’ve always wanted 3 children though. Admittedly, as a little girl I wanted at least 5, but that’s before I knew what you had to go through to get them. I’ve even googled “deciding on having a third child” as if some webpage was going to make the decision for me.

Emotionally, there are days that I can hardly handle the rigors of two. Physically, a third pregnancy would be difficult and stressful with the new type 1 diabetes diagnosis. Financially, we are already over our heads with two so what’s one more. Realistically, I’d have to go to my midwife and have her remove my IUD before we could even try to conceive, and that process is oh so unappealing. Selfishly, I don’t know if I’m willing to gain the weight that I’ve worked so hard to lose back, and I really don’t want to give up running.

I think it’s just a natural reaction to the loss of infancy in your youngest child. You look at your toddler running around the kitchen, banging pots and pans and swear that just yesterday they were intently staring at you in their bouncer as you happily prepared an entire dinner with no interruption. Those first few months seem to last forever when you are in the middle of them, but once they are gone…you can never get them back. Seeing Liv reach for a book, wobble over to me and attack my pant leg in a desperate attempt to hear “Big Red Barn” for the 20th time today makes me mourn the baby who is no longer in our home, but the little girl snuggled on my lap, making animal sounds is about to take us on a whole new journey. Hanging on to my baby will only make me miss out on the wonder of who she is becoming, and what a wonder it is…