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Last week, C and I had a talk.

The whole not trying, but also not not trying, was no longer working for me. I needed clarity. With only three conceptions in the six years and 2 months since we stopped using contraception, it's fairly clear that we don't make a baby unless we really really try to. So do we want another one, or do we not? Because time is running out if we do - we'd already agreed we didn't want more than 3 years between Lukan and any younger sibling. That leaves only five more chances.

Five more chances. I almost can't breathe writing that, it's so definite. So definitely unlikely.

C is clear. Any baby that comes is very welcome, but I don't want to try.

I am less clear. Or maybe, just more reluctantly clear.

I want a girl. I really really want a baby girl.

And that is not right. If we have another child, it is to have another child. With Téo and Lukan, we wanted a child. We wished for a healthy child. I cannot let myself wish for a girl. Because what if we make a boy? I do not want to look at my child and think, I did not wish for you. And what if we make an unhealthy girl? I do not want to look at my child and think, I wished for the wrong thing.

If we try to make another baby, I know I will be hoping with all my heart for a girl. I will actively do everything I can for a girl, even if it's all bogus (I've looked it up on Google, people). Knowing this is wrong, I cannot allow myself to try.

It's more than an intellectual exercise, though. A couple of months ago, a sudden bout of nausea made me wonder if I was pregnant - and what I felt was a jolt of absolute terror. I didn't want to go through pregnancy again. I didn't want to go through that first year again.

I'm happy with the two children I have. They are perfect. They are enough.

So, that night last week, I agreed I should get my tubes tied. It's time to admit I am done with baby-making.

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Even though I know it's the right decision, I'm still reluctant. I'm grieving for Kaia, my imagined third child, my daughter.

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This week, my period was late. My period is never late. I couldn't quite believe what this suggested - it would almost be the immaculate conception if I was in fact pregnant. But one day passed, then another, then another, then another. I became quietly hopeful.

I was hopeful I was pregnant. I was hopeful it was a stayer. I wouldn't let my mind go any further, but I knew I would be hopeful the baby would be OK, would be born alive, would not die of SIDS. One hope at a time, but not one of them about its gender.

I'm not pregnant.

I'm not gutted. I'm not relieved. I'm accepting better that there will be no third child. I'm happy I wanted a baby more than a girl. I'm still grieving for Kaia. I'm so looking forward to all we can do with older children, so soon now. I'm clucky when I see a newborn. There's contradictions everywhere. But strangely, right now, I feel at peace.

Whatever will be, will be.