My sister-in-law had her baby shower recently, and seeing her pregnant brought back a flood of memories. Did my uterus ache? My ovaries go into overdrive? All the talk about babies made me think I want to have another baby.

Sure, can I have another? It sounds like I want having another baby like I want another chocolate bar! If only it were so simple.

I’m such a nostalgic person. I will stare at my children and flash back to the time when they were learning to walk or talk, and my eyes will well up with tears. I’ll cuddle with my boys and look at their not-so-tiny feet and remember playing This Piggy with their cute chubby baby toes. My son will hug me tightly and I’ll recall him squeezing my flabby belly which was his safe haven for the first few years of his life.

All of these little moments and memories come flooding back in an instant. I’ll be brought back to those wonderful times when I wasn’t pulling out my hair, and fully absorbing those special moments.

I knew after my second child that I was “done”. But there was always a little part of me that wanted to leave the door slightly open for the possibility. When my husband had his vasectomy, the door was firmly shut.

But like the craving for the chocolate bar, the desire to go for baby #3 fades away. Because in reality, my kids are older now and they are almost self-sufficient. I couldn’t imagine going through the newborn stage, months of sleepless nights, terrible twos threes and fours… My body probably wouldn’t take the physical challenges of pregnancy and post-partum again either.

Witnessing my two rambunctious sons who are involved in a constant battle of strength and will… basically it’s the two of them kicking the crap out of each other. The fighting is constant. The bickering reminds me of a scene in The Odd Couple. It’s always a question of who is farting on whose face, which son is headlocking the other, and who’s fault is it.

Can you imagine adding a third child – possibly a third BOY – into this mix? Nevermind boy, even a girl? She’d be destroyed. She’d either grow up to be the toughest girl, or I’d have to protect her from their harrassment.

Maybe sometimes I need to convince myself that my husband and I made the best decision. I know my heart has more love to offer, and if I were younger, I’d have another child. But my mind tells me I’m content with my family just the way it is.