Closing the Childbearing Chapter, Part 2: Accepting Reality and Embracing Wisdom

If you missed Part I or want a quick refresher, start here. Otherwise, I'll jump right in:

Tracy highlighting the significance of Josh’s preference to not have a third child forced me to recognize the magnitude of the situation and the reality of how dangerous it could be for our relationship if we had another baby and he wasn't fully onboard. It also forced me to give deeper consideration to adding a third child. I took in my reality—one where we struggle to stay on top of household admin tasks and I have a demanding job that takes its toll on us; our mornings are often chaotic and evenings sometimes feel like a matter of survival through dinnertime, chores, and getting the kids to bed.

I gave thought to the beauty of closing the childbearing chapter, counting the time, money, and relationship gains. I caught glimpses of these benefits in daily life. One night after a particularly long bedtime routine with Dawson and Adelaide, Josh and I began to relax on the couch watching Curb Your Enthusiasm and I thought to myself, imagine having to put a baby to bed right now too—or cluster feeding a newborn.

A similar moment hit when I arrived home one morning, exhausted from a long night at work. I stumbled up to bed while Josh wrangled Adelaide out of our room so I could sleep. He still had to pack Dawson’s lunch and manage the chaotic school drop-off routine, which includes awkwardly spaced start times on opposite ends of the city. Where would a baby fit into this? How could we possibly add another child to the mix, I wondered. I thought about the U.S. Surgeon General’s advisory warning on the mental health and wellbeing of parents. It’s sobering to realize that the stress of modern day parenting is actually a public health concern. 

These glimpses into our life highlighted my limits and showed me that adding a third baby would very likely stretch me beyond my capacity. I saw that my expectations for adding a third were unrealistic, and the reality wouldn't match the ideal I’d imagined. 

I began to experience a quiet clarity as I started accepting my reality as it is, not how I wished it to be. I grasped that the simplicity and slowness I desired likely would not align with having another baby. While I cherished the idea of having three kids, the advantages of stopping at two became increasingly clear. Looking back at the fears and longings list written after our first session, I found that the “desires: no more kids” section most aligned with my values and hopes for our family. I, too, wanted space to focus on our relationship, continue pursuing our financial goals, and enjoy the lifestyle that we’d worked hard to create. We envisioned being young empty nesters with many capable years for adventure. 

Choosing Simplicity Over Chaos

Acknowledging this was incredibly painful and I saw that my head and heart were not aligned. There were many days I still longed for another baby although I acknowledged how it would derail many of the milestones we were working toward. Given our circumstances, life would certainly be easier if we closed this door. But I wasn’t ready to make any final decisions. 

Tracy and Josh understood my need for uncertainty and stressed the importance of giving myself time to recalibrate and not rush the process, which I deeply appreciated. Tracy validated how disorienting the change of plans must feel to my nervous system. She gave me permission to take the time I needed for my heart to catch up to what my mind was beginning to understand.

In processing this all, I revisited the idea that choosing my “baby” of midwifery might have cost me the chance to have a third child. I allowed myself to explore the possibility that maybe I regretted it, but the answer was quickly a resounding no. Midwifery is stressful as hell and there's so much about it that I find frustrating and exhausting, but it has changed me in every good way imaginable and I deeply believe that the work I do outside the home matters, and makes me a better wife, mom and person. I cherish my third baby of midwifery and have no regrets about welcoming her—even though she’ll never let me sleep through the night. Embracing the beauty of that choice and seeing the beneficial ways it has impacted me helped me come to terms with the sacrifices it entailed.

Just as Tracy had wisely suggested in the very beginning, I started to see my initial desire for what it truly was: displaced grief in leaving that phase of life behind and mourning the ideal experiences that I didn’t get to have. I allowed myself to sit in the sadness that my life doesn’t look the way I imagined it would. Letting go of my fantasy of a calm and predictable life with three kids has been difficult and freeing.

Nothing about this journey was linear though, and I grew frustrated with how long it was taking. I felt self-conscious about the amount of processing I needed. Like a child on a road trip, I asked Tracy how much longer this would take and how we would know when we’d arrived at an answer. Why was this so much harder for me than it seemed to be for others? Why couldn’t I be like the many people who responded to my Instagram story saying they just knew they were done? Surely my uncertainty meant I still wanted another baby, right? Tracy reassured me that it’s natural to oversimplify things in an attempt to avoid the nuance. Her and Josh remained supportive as I navigated the messiness of the gray area. I’ve accepted that I may not feel like our family is complete and that doesn’t automatically mean I should have more kids. It’s incredibly wise to acknowledge our limits even when it’s not how we thought it would look.

Growth and Wisdom

In July, five months into this conversation, I got rid of our baby items. In some ways it felt premature, but I wanted to test the waters and explore what it was like to clear out the remnants of that chapter of life. To my surprise, sorting through totes of tiny onesies and cloth diapers clarified that I was slowly moving toward readiness in making a permanent decision to stop at two. It wasn’t lost on me how much lighter and less cluttered our storage room felt with the baby stuff gone. It struck me as a clear metaphor for how our life could feel if we were to forego a third child. 

As this process unfolded, I also acknowledged how unfamiliar it was for us to give intentional thought to a big decision and for Josh to take a stronger stance. Tracy pointed out that throughout our many years together, I have tenaciously fought for my dreams and been the visionary in our relationship. He has come alongside me and together we have made many free-spirited decisions. While that approach brought us plenty of beauty and adventure, at times that came at the expense of making wise choices. I wholeheartedly believe in chasing dreams and desires to create the life you want, but this process has shown me the importance of also seeking wisdom. I saw the havoc that could be wrecked if I placed my ideals over what was best for our family and our marriage.

This experience also allowed Josh to continue growing into himself. Giving him space to embrace and express his desires and preferences fostered healing and growth for both him and our marriage. Tracy observed that saying no to a third baby wasn’t merely going without a third child, it was also choosing to embrace Josh's wisdom and desires, and saying yes to many beautiful possibilities within our marriage. It also meant realizing that I don’t have to choose the assumed path of chaos, which is a pattern I’ve been caught in. Instead, we can embrace a life that offers more peace and rest.

Finding Peace in the Uncertainty

It’s been over two-and-a-half years since Josh initially proposed having a vasectomy and while we have come to an agreement in moving forward with a vasectomy, we’re still having conversations about it as we await the consultation appointment.

Reflecting on it all, Josh acknowledged that his original goal was to land in a place where we both had full certainty and no disappointment or concern for regret in making this choice. He now honors that there is sadness, grief, and hesitation in making a weighty, permanent, and life-altering decision even though we know it’s what’s best. Hearing him say this was a balm to the part of me that was hurt when he first proposed the idea of having a vasectomy, seemingly unaware of its significance. Now, we stand in a place of mutual understanding that this is what’s best, and it’s weighty and sad. 

Similarly, I reflected on my initial hope of having full confidence in the decision—where the pros far outweigh the cons in either direction and I just know we’re done. But the reality is, the scales are barely tipped in the direction of not having another child. Ironically, in recent therapy sessions we’ve acknowledged that if I did get pregnant again, we would both be okay with it. But that doesn’t mean it would be ideal. There is immense wisdom in knowing that we could have another baby, but deciding not to because it may not be in the best interest of our marriage or the health of our family. It is so important to acknowledge and accept our limits even when it’s not how we wish our reality were.

I’ve accepted that there may always be a twisted part of me that hopes the vasectomy fails and that we’ll someday have that third babe. It’s messy. Regardless of how life unfolds, I’m deeply proud of myself for practicing humility and openness—for considering and yielding to Josh’s deep intuition and preference. I’m proud of his honesty and bravery in speaking up about his needs, and I’m thankful to him for holding me throughout this process. I’m grateful for Tracy’s expertise and guidance in these difficult and heavy conversations, and the ways that it unveiled painful truths that led to healing. I’m proud of our vulnerability and gentle presence with one another, and of course, for us agreeing to practice wisdom.

Cheers to new beginnings…minus the midnight feedings.

Xo,

T

Closing the Childbearing Chapter, Part I: Gaining Clarity and Grieving

 

Before sharing this part of our story, it’s important for me to acknowledge the immense privilege it is to be able to make decisions about the size of our family. I’m deeply aware of the pain that many people face surrounding infertility and pregnancy loss, and I share our story with that understanding. My heart goes out to those on different journeys. Additionally, this story is not solely mine, and I share it with Josh’s enthusiastic consent.

"Those of you who are done having kids, how did you know you were done? What was the process like personally and in your relationship?"

In June of 2023, I posed this question to my Instagram story, although the topic had first came up a year prior when Josh suggested having a vasectomy. It was an overwhelming topic that I wanted to gain perspective on as I didn’t often hear people openly share about the decision making process of how to determine their family size. I wasn’t remotely ready to make a permanent decision, and through tears I shared with Josh the pain that surfaced for me with his suggestion. After a long pause, we agreed not to make any decisions until we had talked it through with a couples therapist.

Beginning the Discussion

More than a year would pass between the time that Josh introduced the subject and when we’d finally connect with a therapist who was a good fit. By that time family planning was no longer our top priority. Instead, we spent seven months focusing on connection and attachment—learning healthier ways to engage with one another and working to balance the ways we show up in our marriage. After reflecting on the growth we’d accomplished through the months and how much more settled and lighter our relationship felt, our therapist Tracy proposed that we move to our next area(s) of focus. She made suggestions of what that might be, but posed the question to us—did we have a particular topic we’d like to move on to? Without missing a beat, Josh suggested the vasectomy discussion.

In theory I knew this was on the docket, after all we had noted it on our intake form. But still I felt blindsided and overwhelmed by the thought of navigating the topic. When asked what was coming up for me, I expressed feeling like I was entering a losing battle. Josh, who tends to avoid conflict and disappointment at all costs, also pointed out that it was uncharted territory for us to not be on the same page about a topic so significant and this dynamic added a layer of discomfort.

He communicated his dedication to working through this with me. While much of the processing could probably be done with my individual therapist, he wanted to be present for the emotions and heartache that arose, no matter how long it took. Even still, it felt so painfully raw and I couldn’t imagine landing in a place where we were in agreement about whether or not to grow our family.

Tracy handled the introduction of this with such gentleness, and as overwhelmed and emotional as I was, I felt a deep sense of comfort knowing we’d be navigating this with her guidance. As that session came to a close, she encouraged us to spend time reflecting on the individual fears and longings we have regarding family planning. We each shared our perspectives during the next session: For Josh, it was partly a feeling that our family is complete and also an excitement for the new season we’re entering. He enjoys the freedom and capacity for personal growth and hobbies that come as our kids age. He has concerns about climate change, overpopulation, and frankly doesn’t have the bandwidth for the life-altering challenges of adding another child.

I wholeheartedly agreed with most of his reasons to forego having a third baby, which seemed to subtly surprise Tracy. Kids are complicated, expensive, and time consuming. I’m not naive to the challenges of reentering a phase of sleepless nights (years), the witching hour(s), and a decreased ability for spontaneous adventures. I considered the significant logistical challenges of having three kids including multiple sets of transportation schedules, another slew of illnesses and appointments, not to mention the outrageous cost of childcare—the list could go on. I acknowledged that choosing to have another baby is nonsensical.

And yet the juxtaposition was that I still desired to have a third, even with a keen awareness of the inconvenience it could be. I recalled my hopes and assumptions of being a mother of three, and the way I visualized Dawson and Adelaide becoming big siblings. I could feel the joy and wonder that a new baby brings and the delight of raising a child, all of which I craved. I reflected on my love of pregnancy and the high I experience when giving birth. It devastated me to consider not having another opportunity to enter into the level of divine femininity that I feel while childbearing. I acknowledged that not all of these are good reasons to have another baby and that the midwife in me may always yearn to experience just one more pregnancy, birth, and newborn phase. 

But what I longed for most was to experience a planned pregnancy during a time when we were settled and financially stable. I craved the chance to plan for a child during a time when our marriage could not only handle it but maybe even revel in it. I wanted a chance to do it all again with the knowledge and wisdom we now carry. We’re in closer proximity to family and understand our mental health needs. We’d know how to set ourselves up for success, I explained. 

Josh validated my perspective and shared in the sadness over the things I described. Tracy noted how much we agreed on, and while we desired different outcomes, healing could take place through simply having a conversation around family planning this time. She pointed out the rich tapestry of grief, particularly for me, suggesting that there were other ways to move through it—that having a do-over wasn’t the only option I had to heal from our painful past experiences. I wasn’t expecting this response and initially it didn’t resonate with me. It felt jarring and cold. I wanted someone to see my desire, validate its goodness, and help Josh see it too. I wanted to get my way. 

Naming the Grief

In subsequent sessions, we identified the layers of grief: There was grief and frustration in having contraception fail my body, and in the inopportune timing of both pregnancies. We had regret and pain about our reactions to positive pregnancy tests, which were informed by fear, shame, and anxiety. Both postpartum periods were deeply challenging as a result of the unfortunate timing. There was heartache in not knowing that my pregnancy and birth with Adelaide may be my last. This process would require me to painfully examine the expectations and assumptions I had for my life and how that may not line up with my reality.

I opened up about how Josh's preference to stop at two felt like a personal rejection, telling myself that if I were a better wife and mom—able to effortlessly juggle our household and kids, he would want to have another baby with me. This led to grief about how challenging motherhood is for me and the shame I have about not having more capacity.

I unearthed more layers, recalling the overwhelming confusion and sadness I felt nearly ten years ago when I was first drawn to midwifery. Of course it was a beautiful and exciting dream too, just drastically different from the lifelong vision I had of being a stay-at-home mom. At the time, I felt conflicted, grappling with the pros and cons of pursuing a career. As I sorted through these complexities, Tracy noted that perhaps saying yes to my baby of midwifery meant unknowingly saying no to having a third child. She encouraged me to reflect on the ways I navigated the difficult decision of whether to pursue midwifery and apply those same strategies when working through this major life choice.

So I did just that—I made space for introspection and solitude. I cried and read. I went on walks, talked to friends, ruminated, and listened to podcasts. I lost sleep writing and this blog post took shape as a cathartic way to timestamp and make sense of what was happening. I requested more frequent therapy sessions and suggested that I do some solo appointments with Tracy so that I didn’t waste Josh’s time. After one individual season, he insisted on showing up week after week to bear witness to this process and hold space for my experience, just like he promised in the beginning. 

Unpacking My Desire for a Do-Over 

With desperation to sort out whether or not I was conflating the grief of my past experiences with a desire for another baby, I asked Tracy if my desire for a do-over was an example of "repetition compulsion" which refers to the unconscious tendency humans have to recreate past traumatic experiences as an attempt to gain mastery or resolution. Is wanting a third baby my attempt to “fix” my first two experiences by achieving a different, more favorable outcome? Or do I truly have a desire worth fighting for? I don’t recall her response, but deep down I knew the answer.

Keeping a gentle posture, Tracy shared an honest and uncomfortable assessment about Josh’s nature of being a laid back, accommodating, go-with-the-flow person who generally chooses the path of least resistance. She pointed out that throughout our 15+ year relationship, he’s actively avoided letting me down so if there were any possible way that having a third child felt feasible for him, he would be open to it. And he’s not. His firm desire to stop at two kids shows just how strongly he feels about closing the chapter on our childbearing years. In hindsight, highlighting this dynamic was absolutely necessary and pivotal in our process, but in the moment it devastated me. It seemed harsh and dismissive of my pain. I shared that at times it felt less like we were negotiating our plans and more like I was being told we weren’t having another baby and that I’d have to cope with it, even though I know that wasn’t either of their intentions, nor was it true. Again, I just wanted to be told that I was right—that a do-over would heal the pain. Instead, like the great therapist that she is, Tracy stayed with us in the heartache and discomfort and continued to offer thoughtful observations and insights, holding space to process it all.

To be continued here...

Ten years of marriage

The summer solstice marked a decade of marriage for Josh and I. This last year has been pivotal in our relationship as we’ve worked to rekindle our connection after navigating many years of chaos. It feels as though we’ve lived multiple lives in that time. While most people lay the groundwork for their career, marriage, finances, and parenting at separate times, our life unfolded in a way that left us doing all of those things at once. 

In recent years, we’ve commented to one another about how miraculous it feels to still be together — to have evolved through the transitions of parenting, cross country moves, career changes and grad school, global crises, faith and political dissections, and come out on the other side still fighting for one another.

A year ago, we attended our first couples therapy session with Tracy. After previously abandoning two marriage therapists, I knew that she would be the one to usher Josh and I back to one another as she seemed to have an innate understanding of our background and values, plus a couple of decades more life experience than us. While there weren’t any glaring issues with our marriage, we explained that we were finding ourselves living parallel lives with little connection, having grown apart through many years in survival mode. We knew we had to course correct in order to recreate the life and the love that we desire. We briefed her on the constant change, uncertainty, and stress that had plagued the majority of our marriage, reflecting on the fact that the warped sense of humor we share has been one of the only things to carry us through. She walked us through the approach she would utilize to help us rediscover our love which felt lost and I could sense the promising change that was finally coming. 

Week after week we have continued to show up to do the painstaking work of rebuilding our connection. 

And while our work is far from done as we’re still in the thick of negotiating what we want for our future and peeling away the many painful layers that surface when two people make big decisions together, I am deeply thankful for the place that we’re in and proud of the work that we’ve done. 

To celebrate, we spent the last week together without the kids, reaping the benefits of our labor and enjoying just being us. We had fun exploring outdoorsy areas that are difficult with kids, and we spent time on the Washington coast + Orcas Island where we had an impromptu vow renewal.

Ten years has flown by and yet I know it’s (hopefully) just a blip in the grand scheme of our life together. I am deeply excited for what’s to come.