'I thought I was done having kids. I was wrong.'

If you want to support independent women's media, become a Mamamia subscriber. Get an all-access pass to everything we make, including exclusive podcasts, articles, videos and our exercise app, MOVE.

I'm walking down the supermarket aisle when that familiar pit in my stomach starts to form. A quiet, sinking weight of disappointment, grief, sadness.

The 'aisle' I refer to contains 47 varieties of pregnancy tests and I'm sad because for me, it represents a very particular time of my life, one that was special, full of hope (and I know for some, heartbreak). I'm in the privileged position of only having positive memories, but still, it pulls me back every single time.

I have two incredible children, 5.5 and 3, and lately, the feeling of deciding whether to be 'done' is intensifying. I'm not sure if it's because I've never enjoyed a part of my life more. Yes, having kids is hard, expensive and exhausting. But it's also the best thing I've ever done. So how do I just… stop? And how do I know if I really want another baby or if I'm yearning for my babies as babies?

Watching them grow is wonderful and heartbreaking all at the same time. It seems to get better with each passing year and the more their independence grows and personality blooms, the more rewarding and less back-breaking it is.

Watch: Parenting time saving hacks. Post continues after video.

Society encourages women to have kids, and it's almost expected you'll have two. But three? There's a sudden switch to judgement.

It started in my second pregnancy. We weren't finding out the gender, so the entire nine months I fielded comments from family, friends and even strangers. All of them offering the same unsolicited feedback, that they hoped I'd have a girl so I wouldn't "have to go again". 

Before going into the hospital, I had a moment where I allowed myself to admit I wanted a girl. I had started to try and enjoy the last few months of pregnancy by reminding myself it would be my last. In this economy? With climate change and the cost of living, three children felt like madness, the rational and sensible part of me started preparing the narrative.

So I whispered to the universe an hour before I met my baby girl… please let this be a girl as I'm not sure I'll be here again.

It was too late obviously to manifest and I had a 50/50 chance I was going to have a girl and when I did I felt elated. My Instagram caption declared to the world that my family was complete, the missing puzzle was here. I had already started convincing myself.

Image: Instagram/@nicolle_stuart

Two is the right number, one of each. I'm financially and physically depleted, it's not sensible. 

Could our marriage survive another few years in the trenches? Is that a risk we should take?

Plus, I don't have a 'village'. Everyone in mine is exhausted AF, looking after their own kids and aging parents, while working hard in very busy jobs.

My husband and I barely have date nights, finding a willing babysitter for two kids is hard enough, let alone three! Who wants to babysit three kids? Nobody. That's who. 

No… two is fine. Two is perfect. Three is off the table, I tell myself. And so it goes.

Image: Supplied.

And of course, because our phones are listening to us, I'm being consistently spammed with videos laced with tear-jerking piano masterpieces of newborns telling me that I'll never regret the baby I have, but will regret the baby I didn't.

So, on a mission to help make my decision, I have questions. Firstly, can you really just YOLO a baby into existence? It seems… risky. But here it goes.

1. Does a third baby really "raise itself"?

Is it genuinely that much easier, or have you just lowered your standards so much that you're setting your kid up for lots of therapy about being unseen and neglected? Or are you then too reliant on your older kids to play with, distract them or enter into the dreaded ball pit to rescue them, that you're stealing their youth too soon?

2. How much extra money is it really? 

Does it make a big difference? So much that it's unmanageable?

Sure, you can hand clothes, bikes and devices down — but daycare, nappies, copious amounts of snacks? They all cost hard cold cash. And whilst I'd love to throw caution to the wind and declare that you always find a way to make it work, that's just not always the case.

3. Do I really want to start again?

At 37, do I really want to be starting this phase all over again just when I'm starting to get a glimpse of my life back? I've started toilet training my daughter, we're basically out of the nappy stage.

The bag I pack is getting noticeably lighter on outings, and I can even make quick trips without any supplies at all. Do I really want to go back to the white noise, sleeping schedules and sleepless nights? 

Image: Supplied.

4. Am I doing this because I want another turn at slowing down and enjoying it?

My first was a COVID baby and we missed so many milestones. Then when my daughter was four months old, my dad was diagnosed with a terminal illness and I ended up losing him four months later.

So in the midst of caring for him and grieving, I have very few memories of that time of her life because I was in complete survival mode. Is it because I feel cheated? (I'm well aware this is a question better suited for a therapist, but I digress.)

5. Is being outnumbered really as hard as it looks?

It's my default response when people ask why I'm not having any more. "Who wants to be outnumbered, amirite?"

And also, I seem to put a lot of thought into the fact most holiday packages are "2 Adults and 2 Kids" "2 kids stay and eat free" 2, not 3, chances are if you have 3 you can't afford a holiday, right?

Image: Supplied.

6. Does the feeling of wanting more kids go away ever? 

Does anyone feel 'done' or are you just forever nostalgic for such a magical and special time of your life?

I keep waiting for it to disappear — but one minute I'm convinced I'm done and the next I'm scrolling through endless photos and videos of my kids from the day they were born and contemplating upping my health insurance.  Am I destined to live in baby fever limbo? 

7. Am I simply clinging to this life stage?

Does it come down to the fact that I'm having some sort of midlife crisis?

To admit to myself that this particular chapter of my life is closed requires me to face the very real fact that despite feeling mentally that I'm 25, and like the whole world is in front of me, I'm basically in the second phase of my life. (bleak, I know).

My husband is definitely not on board, so constantly thinking about this feels like it doesn't matter. But I need to know whether to let it go and make peace with it or gear up to do a lot of convincing.

What would you do? Let us know in the comments.

Feature Image: Supplied.