I never thought I would be done having kids after just two. Never. I also never thought I might be done having kids at 32. Thirty-two is just so young. I should have at least a few more child-bearing years in me, maybe more. But 32? I have friends my age who haven’t had their first yet, who have just gotten engaged, who are still dating. Most of them still plan on having families, and many of them want lots of kids. I still feel so young, but my body seems to be betraying me. My body seems to think I’m done.

My youngest is two and a half. That’s the same age her brother was when she was born. We thought by the time she hit that milestone, she would already be a big sister, but she remains the baby of the family. She’s not the baby among our friends though. There was a time when she was the youngest child in the group, but at this point, she is the oldest of all of our youngest children. With every month that passes, there seem to be more and more babies younger than her. My baby isn’t a baby anymore, but she remains my youngest.

I never thought I would be done at two. When my husband and I imagine our completed family, there are always at least two girls and two boys (and sometimes more). In my dreams, our house is filled with noise and laughter. Right now, our house feels only half-filled. Or half-empty. There are bedrooms we always intended to fill with children. But we still don’t have enough children to sleep in them all. Our empty bedrooms will remain a reminder of our hopes and dreams.

I never thought I would be done after two children, but with every passing month, I wonder if I have already missed my last pregnancy, my last baby. I wonder if those days might already be behind me.

I hope they are not. I still hope for those two pink lines every month. I still hope to fill those rooms with children one day. I still hope to make my baby a big sister. I still hope to give my children more brothers and sisters. I still hope, but with every passing month, the possibility that this might be it for us becomes more and more real.

I never thought I’d be done after two, but maybe we will be. Maybe my son and daughter will only ever have each other. Or maybe they will have adopted or foster siblings in the future. Our house and our hearts certainly have room for more. Maybe our family will still grow, but not in the way I originally thought. Maybe my prayers will be answered in a different way. Or maybe they won’t. Maybe God will have other plans for us.

I never thought I would be done at two children, but if two is all I get, they will be enough. They have always been enough. Our life might not look the way I originally envisioned, but our life is still so good. I thought our family would be big, but there’s beauty to be found in small families as well. I’m not sure what our life will be like when our children are grown, but I know it will be good, and beautiful, and more than enough. I love my children, and if two is all I get, they will always be enough.

This article originally appeared on Her View From Home. You can view the original post here.