A Pompous Consideration My Husband Might Kill Me for Confessing

When I can, I try to think like an 80 year old lady.  I figure since that's where I'm hoping to end up, and I hope to be happy when I get there, I should mostly do things that the old lady within me will approve of.  Sure, an 80 year old lady might not want to hike to a leper colony or fly to Bangkok, but I aspire to do those things, because I'm sure my 80 year old lady will love telling the stories over a nice game of Uno.

So, ever since our second daughter was born, I've had an ongoing internal debate over what my 80 year old thinks about large families.  Does my 80 year old want more cash and freedom to hit the flea markets in Bangkok, or more kids and grandkids to potentially visit her in the nursing home?  Both seem like gambles.  Nothing guarantees that my large family would be able to take the stress, stay nearby, love each other, and reproduce.  Nothing guarantees I will or won't see Bangkok in the next 50 years, either - or that I'll end up with a good story if I do go.  And, of course, there's the concerns of my husbands' 80 year old man to consider.

I've realized, as I've turned this dilemma over in my mind for a while, how incredibly arrogant reproduction is.  It was really a cocky thing to do, bringing that first child into the world.  By our actions, we made a statement.  "We believe that our DNA is so valuable, that the world needs it's propagation.  We believe that we are so mentally and emotionally stable, such great providers, such a bastion of love and social value, that the world is better off if they have our progeny in it."

Perhaps we should have thought this through before we had a kid, but we went ahead and had her, which made having a second child a no-brainer.  As soon as you think you can tolerate the sleep deprivation (and if you've been able to pay off the medical bills from the first one), you go for it.  The world does not need more "only children," after all.  We've all seen what happens when parents fail to create a sibling for a child.  So it was easy having a second.  And we've been blessed for the choice.  Our girls are bright, beautiful, and endearingly sweet.  I love every moment with them, and look forward to seeing them grow and become the women God plans them to be.

So what, really, what in the world, motivates me to consider a third child?  Especially when we've been so blessed in every way already?  How pompous am I?  To have a third child would say by our actions that the world doesn't just need a replacement for each of us - the world actually needs us to over-produce?  We're such fantastic parents that we think we can overcome being outnumbered?  We have the requisite time, provision, and emotional resources to take that crazy, cocky plunge again?  Get real.  No one's that good.  But I have to confess; it crosses my mind.

So, I hope you aren't disappointed to get to the final paragraph and find out that no, I'm not pregnant; you're probably relieved.  But yes, sometimes I'm pompous and arrogant, and really wish I knew what my 80 year old lady would prefer, because as the days go by, I know that we're going to have to make a choice whether our family is just right, or has room to grow.  And we can't change our minds once I'm 80!

They will not toil in vain or bear children doomed to misfortune; for they will be a people blessed by the LORD, they and their descendants with them. (Isaiah 65:23 NIV)