Barefoot and Pregnant

Ah, bare feet. Images of sunny days on the beach and childhood days running through the grass--until you become pregnant. Then, bare feet take on a whole other connotation. And heaven-forbid it should be your third child resting cozily there in your womb. Burgeoning bellies elicit the most unsolicited, and sometimes unnecessary, commentary imaginable. I mean, what pregnant woman hasn't had to sit through at least a handful of horror stories about deliveries-gone-wrong and babies born in less than perfect health. For me, this time around, it's the shock of it being the third: "Oh my goodness! Three kids?! Wow! You're definitely going to have a house-full." "Was this planned?!" "Well, I guess you don't mind being poor." And sometimes, it's not the words people say, but the look on their faces or the tone in their voices, even when they are trying to sound like they are happy for you. It seems that 2 is the "right" number of kids to have. If you go beyond that, people become very uncomfortable. And this is somewhat comical to Jeff and I, because it was infinitely harder for us to think about having two kids than it was to think about having three. Going from one to two seemed like stepping from the earth to the moon. Going from two to three seemed like walking across the street. Having three kids is not overwhelming or intimidating to us, even though it definitley seems to be to some people. We feel like we are doing a good job with the two we have, and we see no reason to believe that adding one more will change the way we parent. We are going into this new phase of life knowing more or less what we're getting into, and believe it or not, we are very exicited! So, bring on the happy images of barefootedness. Afterall, the difference between three and two is just one.