Two Doors, One Key

Looking back on the decision to start a family.

Me (this year):

Also Me (five years ago):

My husband and I didn’t know if we wanted kids or not when we got married.

The topic of having children was something we had discussed numerous times prior to getting engaged of course, but neither of us felt firmly assured in either direction prior to tying the knot. We both considered ourselves open to the possibility of having kids one day, which was pivotal, but a child-free life and a life with children had equal appeal in our minds. We figured we’d sort it out later.

Those people who “always knew”? Yeah, not us. Not me. For one, I had never considered myself a maternal person. My husband could do his own damn laundry. There was no board on my Pinterest profile dedicated to future maternity inspiration nor a working file doc of baby names reserved for a later date. And honestly, young kids kind of annoyed me. What kind of monster mother was that setting me up to be? And what would the children even eat? It’s not like I can cook!¹

If you’ve been a Bang Voyage reader for even just a few days (hey, thanks), you know I have two kids with one that is so young she is literally strapped to my body as I write to you from a standing position in a dimly lit room. So how did we get here? Perhaps you’ve experienced this, too — slowly at first and then all at once, I became someone new.

It went like this.

One year passed and then another. I settled into a home that my partner and I bought with our own grown-up money. I co-parented a dog that seemed happy and well-adjusted enough under our care. More time went by. I considered the fact that I could probably learn how to defrost a chicken nugget if I became responsible for feeding a child. And wait, some kids are actually cute??? I started to look at pregnant friends and strangers longingly, wondering what it would be like to watch your body grow an entire human limb by limb. When a former boss told me I’d be a great mom one day², I actually believed him. But aside from the passage of time, what ultimately pushed me towards motherhood was that I wanted to have a child more than I didn’t want to have one.

Leading up to the decision, we were faced with two doors to two vastly different futures and could only choose one. We had to choose one. I remember visualizing a tattered sign taped to each theoretical door with a list of unique promises and a giant asterisk. The footnote scrawled at the bottom of each one warned that results may vary. Satisfaction not guaranteed.

Door #1: No Kids!

• Lifetime membership to the DINKS³ club (you’re rich!)

• Choose to live anywhere without glancing at the school districts

• Never will you ever have to sacrifice your personal time

• Your career, hormones, and wardrobe (the trifecta) will remain relatively stable

• Traveling will be easy and as frequent as ever

Door #2: Kid(s)!

• Build a family with the person you love the most

• I mean, how cute would those kids be if they had his dimples?⁴

• Opportunity for personal growth and a career pivot

• Potential to unlock a profound sense of purpose and joy

• Traveling will be different, but maybe even more fun

Unfortunately, we searched everywhere and couldn’t find a third portal with the option to have it all. Given the one-way doors in front of us, was there a correct knob to turn? And if there was, what if we didn’t select it?

Despite how crystal clear I feel on the other side of door #2 that we made the right call, I was so overwhelmed by how impossible the decision felt at the time. No one prepares you for how paralyzing the choice to have kids can be when you’re a woman in your mid-30s with a ticking time clock for a body and a storm of indecision thundering in your mind. I waited to be fully sure which door to open. That never happened. I don’t think it ever does, not fully. We chose the kid-shaped door anyway.

The birth of our daughter followed several emotional conversations with myself, my husband, and my therapist, but the choice to have a child ultimately required taking a giant leap of faith. Despite what we gave up by bypassing the appealing sell of door #1, it’s painful to consider another reality without our firstborn in it. She is, like most parents describe their offspring, the light of our lives. It really is the type of all-consuming, unconditional, super sappy stuff that they write love songs about.

And yet I still found myself sitting on the fence once again when we needed to decide whether or not to have a second kid, too.

Prior to having our first child⁵, I always assumed I’d have two if I had any at all. Once you have one, you have another. There’s nothing to think about, or so I thought.

I remember exactly where I was standing when my husband and I first discussed the quantity of children we’d hypothetically have one day. It was eight years ago, and yet the memory of walking directly behind my then-boyfriend in a single file line to squeeze between circular racks of secondhand clothes at Salvation Army feels fresh in my mind. I’ll never forget what he said that day because it was the first time we felt differently about something so significant.

He casually said, “If we did decide to have kids, I think I’d just want to have one.”

“Wait, hold on. One?!!” I huffed while sorting through the men’s tees. “I couldn’t just have one.” I puffed. “If I’m going to have kids, I’m not open to just having one. I’d want to have two or none at all.”

The surety of my statement that afternoon nearly a decade ago is laughable to me today. Aside from my personal experience of having a sibling, I had zero experience of being a parent and therefore zero experience of having one child let alone two. While I sincerely thought I knew what I wanted, my desire to have “two or none at all” was largely based on societal norms coupled with what I was most familiar with (my parents had two kids) rather than what I truly knew I wanted.

After actually having one, I was surprised to feel that I might be most comfortable stopping there. Did giving our daughter a sibling sound nice in theory? Totally. But in reality? Conflict! Time passed as we settled further into a family of three, and I continued to yo-yo between wanting to be one and done and trying for another. I could honestly see myself being happy either way, but I couldn’t help but wonder (over and over and over again) if one path would make me happier.

Some days, I could vividly picture us having two kids. Other days, I’d find myself trying to talk to my girlfriend while also intercepting my toddler from running full-speed into traffic and wonder, why would we make this harder?

In one moment, I’d feel ready to expand our family. In the next, I’d discover that I could finally drink an entire cup of coffee before it got cold because my daughter was now playing independently, something we’d fantasized about for months. Why would we want to go backwards now?

And what if we had a second kid who didn’t like any of us and ruined this cool vibe we had going on? What if, what if, what if….

And so there we were again, two (now very tired) parents confronted with two more doors. We would sit in a sea of magnatiles on the weekends and stare back and forth between the potential pathways that would once again dictate the irreversible route our lives might take.

Door #3: One and Done

• More money in the bank

• Easier travel, easier everything?

• The ability to reestablish my career sooner

• Never have to be pregnant ever again!!!

• NEVER. PREGNANT. AGAIN.

Door #4: Go for Two

• Give our daughter the gift of a sibling

• Growing a squad of four sounds pretty badass

• Experience it all again with more confidence

• You’ve already created a circus, why stop now?!

• Being pregnant wasn’t that bad, was it?⁶

But of course, it wasn’t as simple as selecting a key to a metaphorical door — it never was. Just like the first time we had to make the decision, my own intuition coupled with the passage of time was paramount. While we waited for the clock to do its thing, I realized that my biggest hesitation to expand our family was largely based in fear — fear of uncertainty. Partly because of this, it dawned on me that I wouldn’t ever be 100% clear which path to take. Maybe there was no wrong path. And so for hopes that weren’t guaranteed combined with an innate gut feeling that this was the right path for me, I was roughly 80% sure that I wanted to try for a second. According to my therapist, that was a sufficient enough rate to go for it.

And yet. After a few months of trying to conceive, life continued to ease into a predictable state of controlled chaos as a family of three humans and a dog. Best of all, we were sleeping! I began to wonder all over again if we were making the right decision. It felt like parenting was suddenly manageable and yet we were actively trying to rock the metaphorical boat. Would we capsize? Was it too late to call off the mission and head back to land? And wait just a second, would my daughter hate me if I couldn’t promise her a lifetime of undivided attention? Waves of what if’s can paralyze you if you let them, so I decided to keep both hands on the paddles and stay the course.

While I wish I could say that I was eventually fully certain we were on the right trajectory, the truth is that I seesawed on a regular basis even after deciding that we would try for a second child. I countered the push and pull by communicating with my partner every time self-doubt crept in. In the conversations that followed, the potential pros of having another baby would always swallow the cons so we just kept trying. And then we didn’t need to try anymore. Two lines on a stick confirmed our fate. Another pregnancy test put it more bluntly: “You’re pregnant.” I was thrilled. I was terrified. Is there any other way to dive headfirst into motherhood…again?

Looking back at our journey from behind the first doors to where we’re standing now, I’m reminded that pushing past your fears is almost always worth it. In this case, it certainly was. The truth is that no matter which path you take, there will be difficult parts and beautiful parts whether you have kids or not. At the end of the day, there is no wrong door. There’s just the one you chose and the one you didn’t. Of course, I’m so glad I chose mine.

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1. Don’t worry. It turns out I can make an excellent peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

2. This is still one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever received.

3. Double income, no kids

4. Answer: Extremely cute.

5. Key word: Prior.

6. It was.