As many of us quickly discover, it isn’t long after you’ve birthed your first child that people begin to ask about Baby #2. Of course there are plenty of reasons this is inappropriate, which you can read more about here. But if I’m being honest, I have been thinking about Baby #2 since before I was even pregnant with my first. Growing up, I envisioned spacing my children 2 to 2 1/2 years apart. And now . . . I’m not so sure. I’ve already missed the “2 years apart” deadline, and the “2 1/2 year” window will be closing in just a few months.

First, there’s the logistics. How do people manage to do anything with 2 kids? And I’m not talking about big projects around the house you’ve been meaning to get to; I’m thinking of those little luxuries, like cooking and showering. Starting over with diaper changes and breastfeeding and lugging an infant car seat in and out of the house (especially with a toddler in tow) sounds exhausting, at best.

Then there’s the dread of another pregnancy and all its challenges that loom ahead of me like some sort of torturous obstacle course. The morning sickness. The glucose test. The breath-holding anxiety at each ultrasound and OB visit. A bladder that maxes out at thirty minutes. Intense Braxton Hicks contractions for weeks. And of course, the fear of labor and childbirth. My first go-around was long and painful. How can I knowingly put myself through that again? People say you eventually forget, but I haven’t yet.

And lastly, there’s a piece of me that doesn’t want to let go of my son as the baby – albeit a baby who is currently tearing through the house at top speed. Growing up, I’d imagined having at least 2 (if not 3 or 4) children, but after my son was born I was struck with the realization that 1 could be enough. I understand now why some families choose that. Your love for your child is so all-consuming that I don’t know how having another baby can add to something that’s already infinite.

I know the newborn phase will be different the next time around, too. I was fortunate that aside from feeling occasionally hormotional, my son’s first few months of life were like a honeymoon phase. I would let him sleep on me and feel his breath on my neck while I watched DVR-ed episodes of Jimmy Fallon (guilty pleasure). I breastfed him on demand and would let his tiny fingers curl around mine and stroke his tufts of blonde hair. After he fell asleep, I would longingly gaze at pictures of him on my phone. I worry that he will be robbed of that fascination moving forward, and that Hypothetical Future Baby will be deprived of it from Day 1. How could I split my time and attention between 2 children who each deserve all of me?

Then I remember meeting my son, studying his every perfect feature, and the way he smelled (that newborn smell!). I remember feeling invincible after giving birth and wanting to shout to every passing person that I had done it! I had actually given life to this incredible little person! I had survived and come out stronger. What makes me think another such experience wouldn’t make me stronger still?

But I’m still waiting to feel ready, or at least to recognize what it would feel like to be ready. I’m afraid that I’ll wait several months or years and find myself in this same hesitant place. Then what? When I hear that someone is expecting, I feel the faintest twinge of something like jealousy. I’m not jealous that they’re actually pregnant; it’s more like I’m jealous that they want to be pregnant. I know a healthy pregnancy may not come quickly or easily the next time around and that to try to plan and control it may be unsuccessful anyway.

If you were expecting a post that reached a neat and uncomplicated conclusion, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I do know that I want to see my son as a big brother one day. I know my husband will be an excellent father of 2 and will continue to be supportive as we weigh all these factors. There just isn’t a clear answer yet. So to the well-meaning friends, family members, and strangers at the grocery store who ask me when I plan to have another one, you’ll have to accept me simply smiling and saying, “Hopefully someday.”