3 is a magic number

I always wanted to have 3 children. I am one of the 3 (the middle one - can you tell?). My husband is one of 3 (the eldest (for completeness)). I always wanted to have 3 children (have I said that?). My husband really only ever wanted to have 2 (never let the buggers outnumber you - the words of a close friend). But when we had Monkey, we knew that one day he would die and we didn't want baby number 2 to be an only child. To be the sole focus of our attention. To have to cope with the loss of his brother on his own. So we started our plan to have 3. No hardship for me, as you can tell.

The thing is, I think I forgot to clarify my requirement - to have 3 children at the same time. We assumed that Monkey would be here until his teens. Maybe that would have been long enough, I don't know.

I know that Monkey can't be replaced but in my mind, my family is incomplete. Of course it is - Monkey isn't here. But that's not the only point. I also have an unfilfilled dream of having more children than we can handle; of being outnumbered, too much noise and an element of chaos (ok, we maybe do have a little bit of chaos).

I am jealous of those who have 3 children. I can't help it. I am delighted for you. I mean it - truly delighted. But the green eyed monster appears.

We have, jointly, decided not to go for number 4. 3 pregnancies, 2 c-sections and 37 this year, means it's not a particularly sensible option for us. I am very glad that my husband, with my agreement, was very happy to go for the snip (Valentine's Day last year - how romantic). As by now, I would be on my knees. And I could probably be quite persuasive.

I know that life rarely goes to plan for any of us and I am so incredibly grateful for the children that I have and the one I had for nearly 3 years. And I am particularly aware that some people struggle for a long time and are unable to have any children. So know that I am grateful but forgive me for still being a fraction envious.