Three's Company or Three's a Crowd

It seems that lately everyone I know is having a third kid. I thought it was just a San Francisco thing, but a friend told me that it is more widespread. “Three is the new two,” she explained.

“Not me, not ever,” I said. I’ve spent a lot of time over the years with my sister and her three kids. I’ve seen the mountain of luggage that’s required for even the shortest vacation. Mike and I have always felt that we need man-on-man defense. “I’ll have another kid after I grow more arms.”

And, frankly, I’m not sure my marriage could take it. Our son is 2-1/2 and our daughter is 14 months, and my husband has yet to take both kids to the playground alone. Maybe it is because they are so close in age, or because our son is a wild man, or because we’re too old or because we both need a lot of time to ourselves. But we found two to be exponentially more difficult than one. Wouldn’t three put us over the edge?

Then I held my neighbor's little baby. She felt like a little bird in my arms, and her hair was soft and feathery under my chin. She grabbed my finger in her little fist. She smelled divine. How could we not have another one?

My secret, treasured name for a girl was always Eloise. I could picture her blue eyes and blonde bobbed hair. When my daughter was born she was lovely, perfect beyond belief. But she wasn’t Eloise. This girl was dark-skinned, dark haired, Italian (like her father) and the name Mia - a “runner up” on our list -- seemed to suit her perfectly. Still, I felt a lot of regret that after carefully guarding the name Eloise for all those years we didn’t use it. We named Mia’s first doll Eloise, but I can’t help wondering sometimes if the real Eloise is still out there somewhere, waiting. Waiting for us to forget a condom. Waiting for us to change our convictions.

One day soon we might be able to take a family vacation to Hawaii and all be able to go snorkeling. I might be able to tell our children to “go outside and play” without having to watch their every move. Mike and I might actually have some time to ourselves. It is optimistic, but still within the realm of possibility, that we might be completely out of diapers in a year. And yet, I’ll always look at little babies and feel an ache in my chest as I miss baby Eloise ….