“Yes, we should have more kids”
Lisa van de Geyn, mother of two
I was mere weeks away from giving birth to my second child when, at a routine appointment, my obstetrician handed me consent forms to sign for my impending C-section. As I’m signing, he casually (as if he were wondering if I’d like a non-fat latte) asks, “Do you want me to tie your tubes while I’m in there?” I looked up like a deer in headlights. He might as well have asked if I wanted him to remove my entire womb. Not feeling like I was in the right state of mind to make such a life-changing decision, I shook my head without so much as looking at my husband, Peter, who, at the time, had been “gently suggesting” (read: forcefully declaring) that our procreation days would be over following Baby Number Two.
A year later, with a three- and one-year-old in tow, Peter maintains his position. But I’m not convinced we’re done. Part of me (mainly the logical left side of my brain) says I should have had that tubal ligation. We have two lovely, healthy girls, live in a three-bedroom house, are managing financially and I’m pretty certain there’s no physical or mental way I could handle another baby. Problem is I can’t wrap my head around never again being a waddling pregnant lady, never again hearing the words “It’s a girl!” and never again holding my own fresh-out-of-my-oven bundle.
Of course, Peter thinks I’m insane — my one-year-old doesn’t talk yet. Even though I have a baby, I’m already craving another one. Peter smashed his biological clock and tossed the remaining bits out the window, but mine’s still tick-tocking away. I’ve just hit the snooze button…for now.
“No we shouldn’t have more kids”
Peter van de Geyn, father of two
More children? Thanks, but no thanks. I guess that may sound a little harsh to some — my wife included — but that’s precisely how I feel.
I was the guy who, at 30, had absolutely no interest (zip, nada) in getting married and even less interest in having kids. But when my now-wife Lisa and I got together when I was 32, I started changing my tune. Today I have a beautiful wife and two pretty, healthy little girls — Addyson, three, and Peyton, one. I hit the jackpot three times. You might think the “Why tempt fate?” excuse is coming, but it’s not. My reasons for not wanting another mouth to feed, another newborn screaming all night and another kid to worry about comes from our situation.
First of all, I’m closing in on 40, which for me isn’t the new 30, and I don’t want to be one of those old farts trying to keep up with their kids but can’t because his arthritis is acting up. Second, we live in a small three-bedroom home and we’re in debt up to our eyeballs. And finding a house with four bedrooms would mean moving out of our neighbourhood entirely — something neither of us wants to do.
Then there are all the other expenses. I shudder to think about how many piggy banks we’ll have to break when the girls plead to go to summer camp, start figure skating or — hold me — horseback riding. And let’s not forget the unimaginable expense we’ll face when it’s time to send them to university.
Lastly, I don’t secretly wish that I had a son to carry on my name, and I certainly don’t need another female in this house — I’m already outnumbered three to one. Our family of four works. Guess I don’t want to tempt fate after all.
For more from the van de Geyns, check out their blog, Mom Says, Dad Says!