We have 3 children.  They rock.  Really.  Extremely challenging, yes, but each is so wonderful.  Growing up so beautifully.  Truly a blessing to us.  But for each of them, I was the initiator.  Oh, please, hon, don’t you think it’s time, or do you think we’d possibly be able to handle, or don’t you want to do it just one more time?  I just want a baby…

And one of the cool things, as well as an occasional liability, about my husband is that he is so easy going.  Whatever.  That’s cool.  We’ll make it work.  So these children came easily for us, and the biggest blessing of all was that they were conceived easily.  Before we could even wonder if we’re crazy, and can actually handle the first, or another, he or she was on the way.

This time, Mr. 4tops is carrying the ball (ha. so to speak, actually 2). He’s not cautious now.  He gives me a silly grin when I mention it may not be safe, if we’re not wanting to try to conceive this month.  This is not the man who fathered the last 3.  I mean, he wanted them.  Was looking forward to them.  But somehow in a more detached way?  Was he more busy with his career then?  Younger?  Didn’t understand how fast they would grow, how much we could love?  And now, that our oldest is 10 and a half, does he feel more poignantly towards our children, and maybe another to come?

Whatever it is, it is mighty sweet, and it goes a long way towards soothing my nerves about maybe having four children.  At least this time, I can blame him!