After a hiatus of more than two years, my period made a return appearance a few days after Christmas. I can’t say that I missed it.

My return to fertility does tie in nicely, though, with a topic I’ve been meaning to write about. After much reflection, I have reached the conclusion that three kids is enough for me. I know, I used to be quite sure that I wanted four, but the more time passes, the more sure I am that I’m done. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’m one-hundred percent decided against another one, but I’d say I’m probably ninety-five percent there.

There are many reasons, of course, but the biggest is just that I’m tired. Tired of it all, really. Not tired of the kids themselves, but tired of everything that goes into having babies. I realized not long ago that of the six New Year’s Days I have celebrated in Sweden, I have been either pregnant or nursing a baby for every single one. Except for seven short months between weaning Tage and getting pregnant with Petra, my body hasn’t been entirely my own for more than five years. I need a break.

Our original plan was to start trying for number four this coming summer, so that there would be three years between Petra and a new baby. As of right now, though, the mere thought of another pregnancy (not to mention a year or two of nursing) fills me with dread. It makes me a little sad, actually, because I think I would like to have another child, but I simply am not up for the months of pregnancy and infant-tending that I’d have to go through first.

So, that decision made, we come to the next dilemma: birth control. Time was, I figured that when we were done having kids Olof would make an appointment and go in for the quick snip-snip. Easy-peasy, right? Turns out Olof has other ideas about how to limit our brood, and not one of them includes any snipping on his person. To be fair, he doesn’t want any snipping done on my person, either, but I can’t help but feel that ruling out a vasectomy puts the onus all on me. I feel certain that if we were to rely on condoms or the “rhythm method” it would be only a matter of time before we were welcoming a new little Tjerngren, and the other alternatives all involve me putting hormones and/or “hardware” into my body, something I am just not comfortable with as a long-term plan.

Why does this have to be so complicated?