We cleaned out the basement this weekend and I found myself conflicted.  I was making two piles of stuff: One to keep, one to sell at a spring yard sale.

There, caught in the middle was our highchair. “Should I sell it?” I asked Brent. He shrugged. I didn’t know either. It’s one of those big, bulky items that it seemed silly to store on the possibility that we “might” have another child one day.

Brent and I keep having conversations about whether or not our family is complete. If we were to try for another child, we know we aren’t ready any time soon. We want some time to enjoy these calm waters after the wild ride of Arlo’s first year. I know I keep saying it, but things around here feel very balanced lately. We’re in a good place.

Having two children feels right for us and we know just how fortunate we are to have them both.

When we talk about trying for another baby, we wonder how it would effect us financially. We know that children don’t need many costly “things” to grow up happy, but we do carry hopes of traveling far and wide with them. We’d like to be able to put them through college. We wonder all the time how we’ll be able to afford to fulfill these dreams with two, much less three.

We talk about how much attention and effort our children require. How much of our time we want to give and how that already feels challenging at times. We talk about how even though it doesn’t feel like it - the first year really is the easiest - that the more they develop and mature - the more complex the road of parenthood becomes.

But every now and then, my eyes will get teary and the part of my heart who has no interest in practicality and could care less about daily balance or dreams of travel turns to Brent and says “Let’s try for another baby. Just one more…”

One more season of sleepless nights and soft spots and fumbling with all those snaps on onesies and the first bite of peas and crawl to mama, you can do it and that ache in my lower back from swaying a little body for an hour and battling teething and laughing with Brent while the kids cry in unison because the alternative is us crying too.

I am certain that the longing would be in me even if I was able to have a dozen children. Maybe it’s just a natural reaction as we realize we are coming to the end of our “baby years”.  I am optimistic about where ever we go from here - Be that another child or the open road or both.

I put the high chair in the yard sale pile. After being a permanent fixture in our home for three years now, our children have finally outgrown it. I’m letting it go and enjoying the right now, as a family of four.  Because sometimes, I remind myself, you don’t have to have all the answers.