Going back to Virginia tomorrow for the second pirate party. My parents planned something small beforehand for Eli, so he gets to dress up and play some pirate games, but I’ll be going to the main event alone. No kids, no Jason. And no new baby.

Every three or four months I have a pregnancy scare, and this was the month. This was the month for pregnancy scares in general: virtually all my friends had one, and so far none of us are actually with child. I picked up a test today during routine grocery shopping. Unsure how I felt. Today was one of those days I felt so on– I’d eaten well, gotten everyone bathed and dressed, including myself (in a decent outfit no less), done my hair and makeup, cleaned the house, chipped away at the site, and still had the whole afternoon to play with the kids outside. I’d just set up a baby pool for them, and was watching them splash through the window while I made sandwiches. I put the food on the table. I called out to them ONE MORE MINUTE! Then I went to the bathroom and took the test fast as I could.

It was a Clearblue Easy Digital Pregnancy Test, the first one I’ve ever used. While it’s computing your answer, a little hourglass pops up on the screen. I watched it for about twenty seconds. Pixelated sand counting down. Pushed open the backdoor, told them to come in– “Come IN, Addie!” Elias yelled, grabbing her by her suit straps, “come on! SHE WON’T MOVE!”– and so I had to come out there and console Addie, and tell him to go inside, don’t worry about her, she already has one mom (my mother used to tell me this about Michelle: “She already has one mom, Becca, she doesn’t need another one!”)– and I wrapped them both up in towels and stuck them on the bench, and watched them eat. And I passed by the test: words! One– two words? NOT PREGNANT. Just like that. The test spoke. Not pregnant.

I felt this almost crushing relief mixed with a sort of surprise sadness. I never planned on having three kids. I mean, we always said two, ever since I was little I thought I’d have two. But there was this feeling today of– I’m good at this. I’m good at being a mother. I think I would be good if we had more. But maybe that’s also because I’m finally getting a handle on two– the third one might throw me completely for a loop. I don’t know. I’m not even sure where I’m going with this. Sometimes I look at our two and think, MAN, we’re lucky. We lucked out twice. We have just enough hands and time and money for them. And it would be so hard for me to go through pregnancy again, with what happened with Addie. Just the whole nine months praying nothing is wrong. Sometimes I think two is just right. It’s a safe number, you know? And there are other times I think– assuming we have the means to take care of them just as well– three, four, five– SIX KIDS! Let’s have a whole loud house! I love the sound of children. Them tumbling out of bed in the morning, their television shows, their conversations, their laughter, their toys beeping and clicking and humming at all hours. I like their perspective, I like the way they frame their sentences, I like their little toddler accents; as if all toddlers somehow migrated from a single island, with their same dialect and ability to understand each other. I like the idea of a whole van full of boys going to a soccer game, or girls coming home from ballet. I want tons and tons. There’s just so much unknown there. We know what we have now. And maybe it would be better– three, four– but maybe it wouldn’t be.

This is just rambling. I said I was going to write more, so here it is.