Tom wants to keep trying for another baby. I wanted to stop last month, but said we could try this month, too. It didn't happen. So I approached my husband the other night and broke the news. We talked a little about where we each stand on the matter. Both sides have good reasoning, both are right. Mad was quite ill and interrupted the conversation with her cries for love and infant Tylenol. (She seems to be doing much better today, thanks.)
After giving it much thought, I decided that I'd be willing to try until December. Don't tell him, though.
My husband's a rascally one sometimes, especially when a conversation might start with, "We need to talk." (Seriously? I don't use that... anymore. Never quite worked like I hoped it would.) So today I cornered him on the phone and threw down the gauntlet. Sort of.
Did you know that Tom loves sports? Well he does. He was a sports writer outside of Chicago when we met. Despite his relatively moderate feelings for some of the big sports, the man has a fantasy team going at every moment of the year. One of the things he laments every year is that people never get together for the drafts. I think it's the face-to-face interaction and especially the bargaining and bartering for players. You might not have known that about Tom, but I did.
Here was my opening offer: "I'm willing to try for two more months. If it doesn't happen, we can be sad about it, but that's it. Oh, and if it does happen, we get to find out the sex of the baby."
I'm "letting" him (ha!) take his time on the counter-offer, but I expect it'll be good.