I’m not big on regrets. Did a ton of stupid things in my life but I’m not sorry. It is what is, and I did what I could.
One thing, though, I really regret. I regret that I didn’t start to have children sooner. I had no idea how enjoyable it would be. I would have been happy with five. N also feels sorry about that because he had no idea how much he’d love being a father either. He’s not into the idea of five but three would be great for him.
Of course, we might not have enjoyed it as much if he hadn’t made sure that we were psychologically healthier, and that took time and tons of money. But still, it’s a great regret.
Clarissa's Blog 
“we might not have enjoyed it as much if he hadn’t made sure that we were psychologically healthier, and that took time”
If you both hadn’t addressed a lot of your problems, then not only would you not have enjoyed it as much but your hypothetical children would probably not have enjoyed you as a mother either.
I’d say regret isn’t necessarily the right word as it implies wanting to have done things differently (probably not the best idea). Maybe ‘wistful about’ would be better: Your a little wistful that getting in shape for parenthood took so long, but there was no realistic way otherwise.
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This is very helpful. Thank you!
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I totally agree — kids are wonderful!
Of course (and I know you know this so I am not telling you anything new here) you could have more biological children (it ain’t over till it’s over!) and you could also adopt. Are you and N considering having more?
For me, three, and spread out in age, is perfect. I only started early (26, early for a career woman) by accident; my “oops” baby is now 16, can drive, is kind and smart and ambitious, and is overall becoming a wonderful young man.
It does get very busy with three kids, though. Considering both DH and I work, we could not pull off having more than three, either logistically or financially.
Before the third, I was longingly looking at pregnant women and little babies. I know I am totally done when putting away outgrown clothes for the final time brings relief rather than wistfulness, and when other people’s babies are adorable and cuddly, but I don’t wish for a newborn again even for a second.
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It all depends on the state of my health. Recovery was brutal the second time around. Not the scar – that healed so fast people thought I was Buffy but the rest of it. It took me 3 whole months to get off blood pressure meds I took for postpartum pre-eclampsia. Plus, there were other health consequences that made it impossible even to enjoy the baby in the first months.
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