Dotto Voce

Bump and I talked about having a third baby not long after Lula was born. Bump said he always thought he would have two children, but wasn't opposed to three. I imagined I would have three children, but was perfectly happy with the two we had. This discussion was really code for: Do we schedule your vasectomy today, or do you want to wait a little bit?

We decided to "wait and see what happened," meaning "let's not schedule that vasectomy right away." Two weeks later, we knew what had happened.

There would be no similar conversation after Nathan Jr was born. Bump was researching doctors to perform the snip when my doctor suggested a five-year IUD. We decided that route would be easier than The Big V, so I went ahead and had one installed. (My doctor's office called it an "insertion" - which hurt like a mutherfucker, by the way - but I think "insertion" sounds gross. It was installed.)

I will admit that "complete reversibility" was one of the selling points for me.

Let me be clear: WE ARE DONE HAVING BABIES. I can't imagine wrangling four children and putting them all through college. I can barely get my mind around doing that for three.

But there's that little voice - let's call her Dot - that says "you know, if we won the lottery, wouldn't it be wonderful to have one more?"

And then the rational part of my brain starts screaming YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE PREGNANT AGAIN!

I feel that my family is complete. We're all here.

But biology is a powerful force, and Dot knows it. "Why do you think we call her 'Mother Nature'?" Dot pointedly asks me. "How do you think humans got this far up on the evolutionary ladder, anyway? By thinking? No, you idiot, it was by breeding. You are programmed to keep rapid-firing babies out of your lady cannon, whether you want to or not. I'm in control here. I AM DOT. Why do you think it's called a period? Because of ME; I did that. BEHOLD MY POWER."

(Dot's kind of an asshole sometimes. Especially when she's been drinking.)

It is not lost on me that Lula was Nathan Jr's age when I became pregnant last time. Lumpyhead was only a few months older when we found out he was getting a sibling. Dot whispers, from the corner of my brain, "Wouldn't you love another squishy newborn?

I see the pictures of my babies at two weeks. At two months. At four months. Dot murmurs, "Let's do it again."

I am done. My quiver is full.

But Dottie says these-here are getting too big to cuddle.