I have been getting this question a lot lately. I don’t blame anyone for asking (even my mother-in-law). It took about five years to conceive my daughter (catalogued in painful detail on this blog). She is now almost two years old. I will be 35 this year (35 is the age when you are considered a pregnant senior citizen by the medical powers that be.)

A second child has been on my mind casually since K was about one year old. Last year, we were sorta trying to conceive for a minute and then we stopped. Life got complicated. Obviously I didn’t get pregnant. But, at the time, we decided we wanted to focus on our life as a family of three: just feel happy that IVF worked and enjoy our beautiful daughter.

For the most part, I have been consumed by K. Following her up, down, and all around watching her grow into the little person she is today. I have thought, “This is everything. This is it.” My heart feels full. My arms feel full. One child feels like enough, and sometimes even too much for my easily overwhelmed, anxious self. Other times, it’s a different story. A couple of weeks ago, one of K’s toddler classmates brought her baby brother to class. “Baby! Baby! Baby!” K exclaimed. She was mesmerized by this little creature. Her teacher and another mom looked at me and said, “Uh oh! You’re in trouble!” I smiled. It all felt so innocent and natural. In my mind, I was batting away all the complicated thoughts, telling myself, “Just take in this moment where K seems excited at the prospect of a baby, and imagine if I could give her that baby.” It definitely brought the conundrum of a second child to the forefront of my mind again. Recently, I watched K pretending to be a little mama feeding and cuddling her dolls and I felt a twinge in my reproductively challenged ovaries.

Facing the question of whether or not to do IVF again doesn’t feel as dire as it did the first time around, yet it is still a loaded question. There are so many emotions, so many unknowns, so much potential heartache, but, on the flip side, so much potential happiness. It’s that ever-familiar emotional rollercoaster.

It feels like an old, closed up wound. The potential of opening it again is scary. The family of my wildest dreams is a family of three, because that’s what I focused so intently on back in 2009 when this whole journey started. One child. We are so elated and beyond grateful for K. But could there be room in our hearts for more? Is there more I could offer my daughter? A sibling would mean someone to grow up with; someone to commiserate with when she can’t stand her parents; someone to lean on and share memories with; someone to be there one day when L and I are gone. They would have each other. If I could separate myself from infertility, I would want more children. But, the reality is that we are infertile and, for us, it’s complicated.

Currently, we are NOT trying to conceive, but that will likely change in the near future.

This is my long answer to “Will you have more children?”

My short answer is “Do we want more children? Yes. Will we have more children? We don’t know.”