I swear, I really did try. I got through a few shirts without even batting an eye. But then I realized something that sent me high-speed into an ugly cry: I was switching out the last of his infant clothes. These new sizes were for toddlers.
I don't think there's always a right or wrong answer when contemplating having another child. I do think, however, that there's a certain peace a parent must make with him or herself, regarding this question, or any other.
We are enough. Some days we are more than enough. I can't imagine starting the clock again. And yet, seeing a woman with a baby in a Bjorn or with a basketball belly can gut me. She's in the midst of a miracle. That will never be me again.
I think with one child, I could more easily trick myself into believing that I could set the pace of our lives, that I could still be this semi-massive orbit and my children would drift along by virtue of gravitational pull. I could be center and still be a mother.