I am the oldest of three children. My sister has three children. My brother has three children. I have two. Over the past five or six years, people have asked me if I planned to have another baby. Because I have two daughters, the question is most often phrased as, “Are you going to try for a boy.” Over the past five or six years, I’ve answered no. I have a long list of reasons: We like having two girls. There’s no guarantee we’d have a boy. We couldn’t afford daycare for three. I’d have to quit my job. We can’t afford for me to quit my job. I’m out of shape. And as the years crept by I added another excuse, I’m too old. Although after my sister had baby number 3 and I watched them play and grow together I reminisced about my own childhood with two siblings. And as my brother and his wife began having their children, I considered it again. I’d watch my own daughters interact and occasionally feel that someone was missing from our family. Then I’d remind myself of all my reasons