TO THREE, OR NOT TO THREE by Jen Fahys-Maryyanek

Priceless? A third child costs $250,00 before college.

A strange thing happened to me when my second child turned one. Though I vowed I would never get pregnant again, complained through every trimester — about every pound gained, every ache and pain — I started to consider having a third child. This baffled my husband. “But we haven’t slept through the night in three years!”

This may seem like hyperbole, but in fact, it was true. My kids are only 20-months apart and both of them horrible sleepers. “And you hate being pregnant!” Also, fact. Emotionally, mentally, physically, financially we could not handle another child. Though my head screamed No! my heart said, Let’s explore. I started gathering insight from everyone I met who had three children:

“You can never leave three with your husband, so you never, ever get a break.”
—Gymboree, Summit

 “Everyone said three would be no big deal, but I really got blindsided. This is really hard!”  —Beth-El Preschool

 “You’re suddenly outnumbered. It sucks.” —Music Together

“I love her, but having a third child is a stupid idea. Before, I could be with one child and my husband could be with the other. It was logical.” —Whole Foods, Millburn

“That third one really stopped me in my tracks. I don’t think I’ll ever recover.” —Morristown Museum

 “I spent 14 months pulling my hair out."—Costco

 And my favorite:

 

“I want to call all my friends who told me three was no different than two and tell them to fuck-off.” —Nathans, Livingston Mall

All this information did not bode well. I looked online for more input. 

Money Magazine informed me a third child would cost $250,000 before college. Ouch. This figure does not include the cost of new housing to accommodate a third child. Buying a car seemed like a big ordeal for a few bloggers with three children. It seems mini-vans and SUVs are the only option for today’s car seats. (Of course when I was young, one of us sat in the back of the station wagon with no seat belt. Ahh, the 70’s.) 

One woman did say her third child has given her less sleep, less money, more worry, but filled her with such love that she couldn’t imagine life without him. That’s quite a trade off. Overall, however, I didn’t feel encouraged by the online commentaries either. Nonetheless, I was still on the fence. I decided to try a different approach. 

I called my OB/GYN and made an appointment for a tubal ligation. I wanted to see how it would feel to make such a decision, to experience the finality of my fertility. I found myself dancing around the living room, kissing my two existing children as the Wiggles “Hot Potatoed” in the background. Well, I suppose this is the right decision, I thought. The night before the surgery, my husband suggested we go ahead and have another. “We’ll be miserable together,” he said. “It will unite us even more.” 

For a brief moment, I thought, let’s do it. I’ll cancel the surgery. But as I was cutting my son’s dinner, I realized, it wasn’t him who would have to take them to all those doctors appointments, drop them off and pick them up from school, pack their lunches, monitor their TV viewing, and what happens when homework kicks in? And sports? I would have no life, ever. 

The next morning before anyone in the house was awake, I took a cab to St. Barnabas. The surgery went terribly. Speaking to a nurse while resting in recovery, I said I was still unsure about the whole thing, but now it’s done. “It’s better to regret not having a third,” she said, “than regret having one.” 

I got home and hugged my children, one in each arm.

This post was originally published in the November 2006 issue of The Motherhood Magazine. 

Jen Fahys-Maryyanek is a mom of two and lives in Westchester.