Why One Isn't Enough

This post is something that has been rolling around in my head for quite some time. I have been trying to think about how to write it without offending anyone, and so I want to say up front that it is no way the point of this post.

I've had people tell me that I'm very blessed to have Andrew . . . that I should be thankful. After all, there are many women out there struggling just to get pregnant with their first one . . . And y'all that is the total and absolute truth. I am no stranger to the struggle to get pregnant. We tried for a long time before we saw that positive sign on the pregnancy test. Without going into all the nitty gritty details, getting pregnant was boiled down to science in our house. When I finally got pregnant, I did everything by the book. I didn't so much as take a tylenol. I exercised every day. I ate all the right things. I didn't touch lunch meat for my entire pregnancy. And at 35 weeks, I had an emergency that threatened both my life and Andrew's. His pediatrician called him the "miracle baby", and it is truly by the grace of God that he is sitting in my living room right now. Very soon after Andrew's birth, we learned that a subsequent pregnancy would be extremely high risk for both me and the baby. So, yes, I totally understand how blessed I am to have Andrew. I totally get that others would give their right arm for just one child. I completely and totally get it.

But here's the thing. Even with how much I love and adore my son, I've always wanted more kids. I've always wanted Andrew to be a big brother. Pregnancy was hard on me, and adoption has been on the radar since before we were married so that was an easy tranisiton. But I have wrestled with the whole idea of being satisfied with just one child. I have dear friends and family that have one kiddo, and they are thrilled with just having one. Do not misunderstand me, if you only have one child (or no children), and you have no desire for more, then I am more than happy for you. But I've never seen myself as the parent of just one. To be honest, I've always seen myself as the mom of three or four (my mom and my husband both just had small heart attacks). I'm not sure if that will happen, but I do know that I was meant to be the mother of more than one.

Does being a mother complete me? No . . . God does.

Is my family incomplete without my daughter? No because our completeness isn't found in one another. It's found in Him.

But after struggling for a long time with comparing myself to those who have only one child, and wondering if I should just be "happy with what I have", I've come to the realization that my desire and passion to not only have more children, but to adopt comes from God. And that is why I'm not okay with just having one.