Number Three

Once upon a time this woman and this man sat around late at night discussing politics, religion and babies. The woman sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed. The man leaned on one hand. It was two in the morning. Their favorite time for big discussions.

"How many kids do you want?" She asked. This was important stuff to figure out in a relationship as serious as theirs.

"Four." He replied with a twinkle in his eye.

"Four!?! No, two!" She held up two fingers for emphasis.

"And here's the deal," she continued, "I'll have one and if the pregnancy is horrible and I'm puking everyday, or the labor is horrific and the epidural doesn't work...one. That's it. One. Got it?" She leaned in close. He smiled again.

"Okay."

A few years later, with a marriage, a mortgage and an SUV under their belt, they watched the birth of their first born...a girl! Surprise!

"She's so pretty!!" Were the first words the woman said.

"I could do this a couple more times." She said meeting his eyes. Their newborn daughter wasn't even bathed yet.

A few years later, with two daughters, a miscarriage, and mother-in-law drama under their belt, they held hands in the waiting room at the obstetrician's office.

"Do you think everything is okay?" She whispered.

"Yes." He said.

And for now, with two blood draws and one ultrasound under their belt, it is.